Indians are us? [antikvár]

He Burnta swastika on her grassHe was drunkhe said he didn't knowthat her family died in the nazi Holocaustburning through the sodCries of burning bodieschildren whose hollow eyes are caught brieflyin old newspaper photographs being loaded to dieMusic burnt Philosophy burnt Memory burntburning through us the stench of keroseneCould we continueto live heredigging up the black remains near rosebushes Always the grass will have a faint trace unless it is entirely dug up & replanted Every morning as her children go to school she glances there with a burning shudder putting sandwiches in bags She remembers her mother's memoriesof Rosa Sarah Claire Hannah Nora Ruth JudithShe remembers their flight to south america where the nazis followed when it seemed they had lostTheir symbol covering jackets of teenagers on street comersmy eyes burn I know the nazis wonas the slaveowners haveWe see the evidence of their victoriesin every morning's paper burning with a stenchthat fills our livesNot so long ago some other boys burnt a cross on the grass of a Black family less than thirty miles from the grass of my home I have dead I carry on my ownI'm soriy he saidI didn't know what I was doingOh but he didChiystos (Menominee)