Hostility In My Veins

I was born with hostility in my veins;
Flowing like dirty water down the street after it rains.
Dripping from my fingertips while I write;
Like the icicles hanging from my HUD house in the sunlight.
The hostility the government stirred into my people's blood;
It was always there, but now it's dirty as a puddle and thick as mud.
"How do we take care of them?" Mr. Govt. says;
"It was all supposed to be better when we put them on the rez."
"That was supposed to civilize them, make them docile;
But what seems to have happened is we made them hostile?"
Mr. Govt. You can't take the warrior out of our women and men;
You can't cut our hair and expect us to not be what we've always been.
You put us on a reservation and call us savage;
Then you act shocked when we uprise and ravage.
We break your laws so you put us on the inside;
Then you act shocked when we still show our pride.
But you see, being on the inside is like being on a reservation;
And the way we act, is a part of your creation.
Remember that when you question why we are how we are;
The warrior in us will always come out like the evening's first star.
Because you see, we was born with hostility in our veins;
Flowing down the street like dirty water after it rains...

-Dana Lonehill 10543-273
May 2, 2010
Waseca FCI
Waseca, MN
(my first prison poem, written upon arrival)