FREE VERSE Poem: still Tupi, by Hellen Albuquerque

my country was stolen
and so was I
so many times
I don’t even know how to talk
what’s the use of my mother tongue
if the colonizers won’t know how to read
me screaming
what’s the use of being a mother
if the men won’t know how
to pay heed
Tupi is the voice of the original people
of my land
there were trees and tales and gods
thriving here way before
you baptized us for death
with your holy name
Tupinambá is who I should
have been taught
to be at school
Tupi is the word that the european caravel
burnt down with sickness
Tupi is the red color of the fruit urucum
that painted our faces when they arrived
armed with greed
Tupi is the blood that was left
after they raped
our spiritual path
they say we were discovered
but they were the ones lost at water
my country was executed in a
morphological slaughter
with false mirrors, the white man erased
the beauty of our faces
with false promises, the white man whipped away
our ways to survive
I use the invader’s letters
out of despite
to take back our divinity
my country was stolen
so they tried to do the same with my soul
and yet
I stand here
still Tupi
even in silence

Author: poetryfest

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