He was shamed by his ancestors.

The other shade of red in his blood

diluted what he saw as purity of race.

Due to his shameful shame

for those of whom he would not speak,

I cannot know my Native ancestors.

I have no certainty of tribal belonging.

I have no names for my Native mothers and fathers.

Even so, they are there.

They speak to me.

They whisper to my Spirit’s ear

and touch my heart.

I don’t know their names,

but they know mine.