Oh, Pocahontas,

how did you do it?

Stand alongside settlers who ruined

your crops, those golden, crisp corn stalks?

Walk with those who trampled all over

our beloved Earth

with their jagged soles?

You accepted them.

How can I, one

who gasps for air

under the

thick, putrid

gas globs

of the imperialists,

do the same?

Save me, Pocahontas,

for the singing rivers

no longer smile when they drown into

rusted pipes that squeeze

through our concrete walls

Even the valiant trees that once

breathed freely

now come with a price

to sit next to,

the beautifully embellished stones

once accompanied by the spices you ground

must wait

for a customer

in order to whisper a hello

O, let us give thanks, Pocahontas,

to the brothers and sisters of our Earth,

for they are no longer

animals we honor

for allowing us to eat their flesh,

but manufactured meats

sliced

into

pieces,

inflated

with preservatives

O, Pocahontas,

must I love

those you loved,

those who shot

our siblings

dead?

For even your death,

Pocahontas,

simply produced a child’s film.