I is for: Indigenous

For the city of Los Angeles, for better or for worse

When you’re home you know

You’re home, or

At least think you do.

Alone or gone,  

Sometimes you

Realize you’re

Lost among

The desert of souls

Claiming refuge.

You built the Tall

Structure on a crumbling

Hillside, built with

Mirrored surface,

Torn down,

We rebuild again and again

In the same spot.

They claimed they were protecting you from the invaders, the

Invaders were already there

Protected from

You.

The time they tried to ice

You out of your own

Home, turn

You away,

Away from your own

Land,

Turning off the gas,

Shuttering the silence.

Indigenous means the very

Land

Holds your history.

Are you thus a prisoner?

This land is your land,

This land is

Therefore

Always

One of exile.

Humanity travels

Side by side before

Deserting you

In your own country.

Tried as an invader on your own land.

Dey have dem oil

Lands. Dey be OK on

Dere own.

Don’

Even speak ENGLISH

Like a real

‘Merican.

Torn down

We rebuild again.

One day it

Will

Filter down to you.

What if you knew

Him and found him

Sitting in the rubble with

His children,

His

Dogs and cats?

Then you’ll know.

You’ll say it.

You’ll

Deny it if it suits you.

Indigenous to

This

Is it

This land,

This building,

This hand of god

Or

The language that

Suits you?

You will know then

You

Will at last be

Buried here.

3/23/26