Apache

Apache
 

I keep the memory of my ancestors in memory
Memories that for me are sacred
The good times I lived in my old village
My skin is red
The same color as my fire eyes
My ancestors told stories around the fire
Stories that today are just legends
When our spirit was live like an eagle
And our instinct, untamed like a wild horse
When the sun illuminated us with hope
And the wind blew freely in our hair
When a seed was planted
No need to knock down any trees
When the animals were hunted
Just to feed our flesh
When nature taught us to be good
When we heard the voice of the great bear
Saying to be fair
The color of our skin has changed
Now my ancestors weep with sorrow
They do not sing and do not dance around the campfire anymore.
We had our land
We had our house
Now we are only remnants
Heirs of a race
That goes away every day
In the lines of the history of man
And what color is the man? What color has your skin?
They tell me about equality.
But I've never seen any healers in my village
Become a doctor
Much less study at Harvard
Are we here to preserve our culture?
Or to remind your heroes of the past?
Brave Pathfinders
Men of superior intellect
We, red skins, are dangerous.
We did scalps on our enemies as a trophy of our victory
The white man is not ferocious
Just defend yourself
Maybe that's why he burned so many of his at the stake
My ancestors ran with the wolves
They swam with the fish, danced with the moon.
Today we are just a reminder of a primitive era
It's not right to think so.
I'm proud of my red skin
I am proud of my indigenous blood
On a day when men no longer qualify for their color
Maybe I can teach them to be free, as my tribe once was


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