Washoe Warcry

March 28, 2018
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Smoke swam
between legs and over shoulders
of men,
and children
who oozed the Native spirit.
They are Washoe. 

Tattoos told
tales across their skin
of pain,
and passion.
They are Washoe.

Hearts hummed
in sync with the beat
of 1-2-3,
They are Washoe.

Cleats clicked
with a foreign tap-tap
of intrusion.
They aren’t Washoe.

Souls shouted
of metal monsters who kill.
Those aren’t Washoe.

Feathers fell
with the Washoe warriors.

We were Washoe, and this is our warcry.

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