The Spirit Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Spirit

Have easel and canvas,
Words are paint, brushes.

On something am working,
To last as masterpiece.

Both rider and his horse
Are painted for the war.

His name is Spirit:
"Agent, come and join! "

The man of pen rejects,
Was racist? Or afraid?

The hero cares, repeats:
"Brother, come please."

Related is agent,
To Cree, Frog Lake's.

Is trained specialist:
"Who are you but nothing? "

The rider pulls his gun,
Aims at him, shoots Thomas.

The hero with friends
Set the church on fire:
"This place is rotten! "

Settlers' articles:
"The brainless savage
Needs to learn his lesson! "

Then workers of churches
With help of government,
Behaved like abattoir,
Forced the kids in den-jails,
Exactly like chickens,
Bloody is canvas in a frame!