day SEVENTY SEVEN

Thinking of Sand Creek

Today is the 152 anniversary of the massacre at sand creek
I think of the Colorado desert, desolation 103 degrees
it’s May now, November then rushes through my head
as I survey the field I can’t breathe

I think tonight of Manzanar, the internment
of the Japanese, the desert overlooked
by Mount Whitney, sparse cabins once
jammed with persons, citizens, americans
who were never found guilty of terrorism

I think tonight of Little Big Horn
I think of Wounded Knee
of Red Clouds grandchildren
relegated to Pine Ridge Reservation
who painted above their meeting house door
The indian wars are far from over

there is a litany of cruelty
of hate within americans
I’ve followed it around the country
Andersonville and prison camps north and south
battlefields, where blood was shed for “freedom”
I’ve crossed plantations and civil rights sites
I’ve looked for Americas dirty secrets, its forgotten past
in out of the way places, always
believing that we had passed that,
even as our government destabilizes
tampers and drone strikes across the world

now, in my own country, hate amplifies
open and oozing, not out of sight
I’m horrified, terrified and confused
somehow, we do not learn
what was relevant from our history
we learn, only what we want to believe

--Jason Baldinger