soft grumbles

It is I
whom the gods
tried to subdue
with cheap tricks for so long
they almost won.
They gagged my Mother,
locked her up in a cold chamber,
chained and badly beaten.

It is I
who inherited
the forked tongue
of my ancestors,
bore the scars
of a battered ego.
They turned me into the moon
when I could have been the sun
that rises from my mountains
and sets to the west at sea.

They changed my name to their saints,
forced me to adopt their religion
to suppress my thoughts, feelings
and desires. I am a chameleon
who can change my appearance
to what I think would be pleasing
not to myself but for others.

It is I
who continues
to suffer
pain brought about
by people who thought
they were better than I.
Taught me lessons I didn't need
for I could have figured them out
on my own. They were interested
in raping my Mother,
making slaves of my kins
and plundering my resources.

But the blood of warriors
runs through our veins
We drove them all away.

Now that they have long been gone,
who else can make
my mother proud?
Who else can free my spirit?
Who else can build this country
into what it should have been?
Nobody but I.