The Blood in My Veins

Tonight while combing my long dark hair, 
                        Sprinkled with strands of white, 
                                    I am grateful for my legacy 
            And wish others would not look down 
                                                On my people. 

                        For the white man took our land. 
                                    Questing for gold and ground, 
            They placed us on dismal reservations 
                                    In houses cramped and dark, 
Giving our children inadequate education. 

                                    We grieve and await the time 
The pipe of peace will be smoked by all. 
            Our young ones go astray, like yours; 
                                    We are a misjudged people. 
But I am proud of the blood in my veins.