PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Native


Very rarely do we hear about America's First People and our plight: the Native American, American Indian, the Indian, the redskin, the descendants from the Trail of Tears.  We've been called by many names.  But not much is remembered or said in history books.  We go by many tribal names, but we are America's First People.  To describe what we lost or that which was taken from us, is not a pleasant subject for school books.  It's a forgotten subject remembered only by a few, my people.  And as a result, no one even recognizes what I am.  For when I'm away from my small territory, I call my small reservation, I'm analyzed and studied as if under a microscope.  However, puzzled faces reveal their questions.  Mistaken for Hispanic or African American, I am quickly categorized.  And when asked the famous question, "What are you?", I smile and in my head go to a happy place and scream loudly, "America's First People."  But, knowing the person asking will not understand such a response due to a lack education of me, I just reply "Native American."  But I am... I am... I am..., a Lumbee Indian. 

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Submitted to a slam

I Am... Scholarship Slam - CLOSED

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (1)

Jan Wienen
<p>Great reminder ...</p>

Log in to leave a comment.