....White Eagle, he was called, or Mr. White,
And he strutted for money now, in schoolrooms built
On Ohio's plains, surrounded by the graves
Of all of our fathers, but more of his than ours.
...We called it fun. And as for Mr. White,
changed back to a shabby salesman's suit, he called it
Nothing at all...
Just yesterday I told my spouse, who is interview to work in congregations in the Midwest, that I didn't want to move there because in these lands they killed all their Indians. Then I added that well, we killed them everywhere. The plains, the mountains, the swamps, and the forests are full of dead Indians. Are their deaths to mean nothing at all? Should any of us be dancing when it is over the graves of so many? Perhaps it is knowing that in the dirt and rock there will always be ashes and bones, and is it in this awareness dance we must. So dear Haiti, with 50,000 dead this week, I dance to the rhythm of humanity's divided heart, a deadly game of "some for you and more for me."
What harm or suffering have you contributed to? How do you make meaning of this, and how do you live well when others live poorly, or vice versa?