MASSACRE
A spear, it flies,
As does the
arrow,
As totem poles fly from the ground,
Cries of pain from all
around.
The chief who stood, once tall and proud,
The white man
shot him down,
Whoops and cries of victory,
As I hide within this tree.
I feel like a coward,
But know I'm safe,
Where my people
once stood,
Yesterday, the massacre, I remember.
by Natasha Arseneau
