Page 49 - Contrast1988Spring

Bonded in Silver

My fingers are surrounded by blue stones
Above the collar of turquoise that enslaves me

In my heritage
My eyes will be clear
When I look into the white of hatred's eyes

I will laugh
Because I'm still proud
Of my long braids that

Continue to grow
No matter how many times severed

And I will live free in my soul
As my Grandmother did

When she was named "Indios"
The tribe of the generous

Sue Bruder

Contrast Spring 1988 45