The Centuries of Pain



We see the native go his way

So listless, sad and poor.


A copper corpse that’s tumbled up

along a shrouded shore.


Too often as we watch him bend

beneath his piteous yoke,

we call him ‘Noble Red skin’

and mean it as a joke.


Too often we just see the crust

Of sickness, dirt and sin,

and never try to seek the soul

that flickers there within.


How can we know the tears that flood

the centuries of pain?


How can we know the awful loss

of mountain, wood and plain?


How can we know the losing fight

against foul greed and lust?


How can we know the pledge betrayed

the ever broken trust?


For locked up in the native mind,

behind his cryptic eyes

there lives the cold pained memory

of Mother Earth’s lost Paradise.


A Paradise of wood and hill,

Of river, lake and stone,

whose dwellers only asked they

be left at peace – alone.


The other younger races

who came from Europe’s shores

to ‘civilize the savages’,

Ah well, they did their chores.


With bullet, gun and bottle,

with slippery tongue and pen

they robbed him of his Heaven on Earth,

for they were civilized men.


Oh, someday when all ‘Rights and wrongs!’

are balanced on the beam

there may be judgement to repay,

the theft of natives’ dreams.


Meanwhile a sorry folk we are,

Who do not seem to care,

that our red brother prostrate lies

because we put him there….


Excerpt from the book  the way called beautiful by Helen Bird

AVAILABLE ON and kindle version too




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


Games Discovery Channel

The Plein Air Experience

No Camera Needed


A Storylearning Library for Sensory Readers

Il blog di Cristian Randieri

John Wreford Photographer

Words and Pictures from the Middle East & Balkans

Deus Nexus

Messages for an Entangled Universe

Vigilant Knight

Exploring the history!


« me arrodillo por las noches ante tigres que no me dejarán ser - lo que fuiste no será otra vez - los tigres me han encontrado pero no me importa. »

Les faits Plumes

Des enquêtes à pas de loup pour apprendre sur-tout...

Kat's observations.

Philosophical Thoughts, Poetry, and Creative Writing

Amdall Gallery

Artwork, data analysis, and other projects by Jon

Oscar Hokeah


na rysunku...

drawing blog

Mobilité quotidienne - découvertes & convictions

Ken Hallett Blog

Writing Lostness

Melanie Franz

Art & Illustrations

In a Love World

"Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other." Carl Jung

Channel 365

Lifestyle discovery channel. We love ya!

%d bloggers like this: