Too Much Poverty by Nathan Blackwater
My grandfather talked about being given land but no implements to farm it. He lost the land. “There is no place for me anywhere,” he says quietly. “The shame I feel when I take care of my grandkids because my children are drunk is unbearable. We used to have a place, real work, and knew our language. Justice is not for us. The only hope I see is when my grandchildren visit me and tell me their dreams to go to college and get respect. My fear is that they will forget they are Natives.”
My dream is that I live in hope, never forgetting who I am. That is the Easter promise. We can live in the light and not walk the dark way. I enjoy being able to speak to my grandfather in his language. When I ask for stories, his face lights up. That’s worth it all.