It’s a haibun Monday at d’Verse, and Frank J. Tassone is serving. On this dubious day of remembrance we are asked to use “indigenous” as our prompt word. Here’s where that prompt led me.
You have displaced me. You have disparaged and disowned me. You have left me behind, left me out, left me for dead.
Now you seek me out, entreat me to take up with you again; beseech me to be your guide. You’re beginning to realize that the knowledge you sought cannot replace my innate wisdom.
No matter where you are, I am native to your place. I am native to you; I am your indigenous self. But somehow you have lost your way. You cry for me, the child you once were.
I cry for you. I have reason to be wary, yet I appear, hopeful you will listen, hopeful I can lead you back.
all lost in conquest
interior landscapes razed
wild voice echoing