The Sand Man

     from colonium

One must have a mind of whiteness
To regard the wire and the barbs
of the fences crusted with sand;

And have been white a long time
To behold our mouths speaking English,
The hotels rising in the distant glitter

Of the Territorial sun; and not to think
Of the misery in the sound of our voice,
In the mound of a few bones,

Which is the pain of our land
Full of our maimed voice
That is crashing against the maimed shore

For the colonizer, who colonizes even the sand,
And, everything himself, beholds
Everything that is his and the Nothing that is not.

Return to Table of Contents