ThanksTaking
She calls it,
Breaking
An image held
As lip-gloss service
On a nation’s reputation
As one that melds
A metal more
Recently polished
Than when slavery
Was abolished,
Giving diction
To a fiction
That is tired—
Divinely inspired
Since first inception
As if enlightened,
Instead of frightened.
And we know that fear
Is as antithetical
To gratitude
As the longitude
And latitude
Of India, land of spice
Is to New England,
Land of Christ-pushing
Imperialists
Who were/are
merciless materialists
In dealings with the
Indigenous;
Deck-stacking disingenuous.
Making it strenuous
To detect the respect implied
By the title of the feast
Given by the beasts who hide
The pilgrims’ pride, aka genocide
In plain sight, well-lit
With pan-generational gaslights
Giving thanks for all the blessings bestowed
Which is a load.
No grace was shed on thee.
When those who bled were free already,
Until the day when white-makes-right
Stormed the shores,
Shouting to the neighbors about discovery.
We won’t begin our recovery until
The bitter pill is swallowed
That our hallowed halls are hollowed
And the varnished thick veneer is tarnished
Every time we listen to tradition
Instead of honest admission
That the making of our living
Was consumptuous taking
Not “Thanksgiving.”