Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

The Inumerable

In this city the bayou is named after them
As is a curiously named street, a speedway
Though trying to imagine them speeding
Is difficult. Amble more like. Slowly.

Buffy, her name close to theirs, Saint
Marie wondered where they had gone
With no natural enemy they were culled
In vast numbers by the intruders who
Likewise culled Buffy’s fellows, who
Likewise are herded onto reserves. Now,
Reserves doesn’t sound like a place for
People. Nor for animals. Is it not a granting
Of a pocket handkerchief of territory
Parsimoniously put aside by the rapacious
White man. Reserves almost by definition

Once venerated by him that same animal is depicted
On caves on those natives’ home. Is it that when
A peoples forsake their homes they become
Foreigners and this gives them license to subjugate
Native peoples and treat them as they will. To see
Them as animals. When actually they get treated

I don’t think there is an example of one of these
Huge shaggy beasts in the zoo of this city. Apparently
They can’t be tamed and are, therefore, regarded as
Useless by domesticating farmers. Bringing their
Intensely civilized ways. Civil? What does this
Mean? Uncivilization, would that be more correct?

Wherever conquerors go, death and destruction lies in their
Wake. Have always done. The natural human way.

So, the natives of this land are not truly the citizens of it. Those
Who wish to live as they have always lived are excluded from
Our midst. They live as we live, or are, shunned, ignored.

There is no inclusionary clause in our great constitution.

Malcolm D B Munro
Sunday 5 June, 2016

Filed under: poetry

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