Sometimes my hair is black fire sweeping through an infected landscape polluted by the rotting
corpses of white supremacists I imagine I am one of my ancestors overlooking Tséyi´ watching all
the corn fields ablaze and then someone hits the fastforward button and then I’m suddenly
standing on the washington side of the columbia river gorge watching a forest fire light up the sky
in the black womb of nite
I stop to blink my eyes and realize I’m actually sitting on the opposite side of a computer screen
watching it documented in a .gif image and the swell of devastation rolls over me like a musical
score and it is at this moment I am reminded that my DNA predates the concept of a bitmap
image this is the way settler colonial trauma settles into the body of the colonized we
unconsciously re-live the genocides and brutalities inflicted against our ancestors the shame the
rape the beatings the enslavement the white bodies with their killing machines and unholy
structures of torture and discipline the distrust the disease the disgust the deceit the miseducation
and immoral fixations the flamboyant uniforms
my ancestors will not let me forget this and every american flag is a warning sign even the one my grandfather was given as a Code Talker
