Sonnet #274

“We who own the wind,” they say, “We own

the sky and ground. We own the wind, how it

blows through the canyons, how it screams, sit

down in a field that we own, too, and know

these men who came before you and took claim

of the water in the sea and the minerals in soil

We planted flags on moons and invented water’s boil

We own the process of the boil, we own the same

things everywhere; nothing is new, nothing is not ours.”

That is what they say, what they always say to us

That come after them into the canyons and valleys and fjords

That we owe them just standing. At first, we believe because

We have heard this song so much, until we shout

loud enough into their wind, and decide that no one owns us

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