Woven from memory,
Weaved from DNA,
I have always chosen,
To live a distinctive way.
I didn't grow in love,
Nor was I nourished in care,
The hard reality was,
Life had left me in despair.
I followed the red rocky road,
Though they stole all my class,
From it I grew strength,
Its hard to carry the past.
Woven from Native Blood,
Weaved from guilt and shame,
Forged from the fiery ashes,
No longer to be the same.
(c) 2017 Wind Songs Spiritual Poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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