When they say they honor us


Their honor
is eating our bones
crunching our bodies
stealing our children
crying about how noble we were
crowing that we are now dead, gone
painting their faces in scarecrow skins
of our cultures
calling themselves thunderbirds and
white buffalo
wondering why we don’t see their honor

Grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles
your honor is my lifeblood
your honor is cold spring runoff in the river
your honor is a drum’s heartbeat by roaring fires
your honor is that absolute stillness of
ice beneath violet skies shivering with Ghost light.
Thank you my ancestors for resisting their honor
for refusing their ways, 
their soulless, clawing desperate mockery
May my children remember your names