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Treaty One 1871

The attack embraces me
Harvested by hunger
For the golden rule.

Arms made of paper sails
Reaching across the land
To be impressed upon nations.

Carrying convincing promises
Of better things to come
While dislocating people from their lands.

Alienation from our civilization
Shifting to destruction
Of who we are.

They call me heathen
And hide my language
They steal my pipe.

They give me poison
And tear down my teepee
They give me laws.

They give me a Queen
To be my mother
A king to be a father.

Blankets whiskey and twine
With paper money
And signed promises.

They preach benevolence
Waving presents
That make me blind.

They hide behind paper walls
Do not respect their own

Subtle changes away
From the eyes of the world
Hiding behind their paper walls.

They use her name
To take a nation
To the brink of destruction.

They want my land
My soul and existence
They want my brothers.

Who wander the forest
To exploit my mother's veins
To suck her blood.

They despise me
As the king sits on his Capital
Deciding who I am to be.

-© Copyright Wayne Scott of Swan Lake First Nation Reserve of Manitoba Canada

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