Native Woman

The two met one day in a small cafe.

It was close to the capital, the clouds looked like rain.

Packed in tight, nowhere else to sit, but at her table where it was dimly lit.

Two cups of steaming coffee.

Silence for a bit,

As she tapped away

On her computer with intent.

Beautifully radiant ribbons wrapped across her dark brown braids

All her people wanted were their traditions back, like the old days.

Man of exploration ran with life as it came, no idea the value of mother nature's name.

He noticed the press badge,

She noticed the suite.

She was at first hostile,

He thought she was cute.

The day moved on and there was a smile or two that were gained.

Months later they'd still call each other when they needed a friend.

But he would always go back to his office

When she went back to her documentation,

Taking pictures of the big black snake that was slithering with destruction

Not knowing that he was spilling the ink to encourage her people's demise.

The fight continued.

Every day that there was more black in the sink

They called louder for the awaken of the week

Praying for a brethren that didn't understand them

Tendons in the arms frozen lifted high holding rattles

Trying to protect the very same water that they were being hit with

John would sit wondering how the people could say this wouldn't benefit.

Give them jobs, give them money, make it harder for the oil to spit.

Convert empty lands into something productively fit.

But one day

His company's incredulity

At a woman's capability

Overflowed into a lawsuit against the "propaganda" that she wrote

"Now John, file these papers for me", said Ratcliffe in his over coat.

And as John looked down at the packet of papers he lost the ability

To move.

He saw beautifully radiant ribbons wrapped across her dark brown braids

In the picture moment frozen lips, snowy microphone, watery wintery haze.

John went through his daily maneuvers numb,

Wishing he hadn't learned where she was from.

Wishing he hadn’t read what underlined the frame.

“Hey, Amonute. What’s going on?” John said quietly into his phone late that night.

They talked for hours and again the next day,

until he felt exhausted enough to raise the flag of surrendering white.

All he wanted was her safety and to come and stay.

“Let them fight it if they must!

Don’t hurt yourself over this broken trust.”

“These are my people.

I won’t leave them alone to rust!”

He shook his head wishing he could see her.

“Ok, this is your family, your heritage, and the pipe will continue to thrust.

But you’re young, you could do anything your heart could dream up,

Why do you have to fight with such disobedience?”

It got quiet.

She was tired too.

“Sometimes the right path is not the easiest”

And she was gone.