Mollie
For Mollie Kyle, an Osage woman who helped investigate the Osage Indian murders
The white men hold shadows darker and deeper than in any cavern, space, moon, sea
they shine lights as if they created the beams
shining their eyes like lanterns against the bloody sky
Milky fevers twist my skin
They twist our blood until it’s dry
They twist our blood like oil
Their shadows hanging like a stuck pig
Waiting for the hell they created
My name is Mollie, all my sisters have been lost
To the white man
Each body that is scarred has ripped my womb wider, a gaping, feverish hole
The white man shines a lantern of their greed inside of me
Shadows that are in chains
Lights that pretend to free
Hunger so ravenous, brutal, starving
That they chew on our bones for the marrow
Our screams vacuumed into their light
We bury our pipe
For they stomped out the fire
Shadows that pretend to hold sun
Worse for wear wolf in sheep’s cloth
They stripped my light; didn’t take my soul
Shadows that will haunt their blinding light
Casting truth on their many lies
Casting shorter days on their evil bringing
My people
A midnight that burns a thousand times over, spilling like sweet honey, nirvana, sweet, gentle goodnight.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
Standing While Falling
Quotation from Friedrich Nietzsche "He who wrestles long with monsters should beware lest he himself become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Man is not destroyed by suffering, but by the meaning he makes of it."
By LUCCIAN LAYTH6 days ago in Critique
Comments (3)
This poem burns with truth and sorrow. Every line carries the echo of history and the voice of resilience that refuses to be silenced.
Hoorah for Mollie. Great ode to her.
This was so poignant. Loved your poem!