I Am A Traveler in the Last Days of the American Dream

I am a traveler in the last days of an American Dream.

I have watched the twin towers of commerce on the eastern shores
of America destroyed by fire. I have witnessed a takeover
of the presidency by an oil family who are determined to own
every drop of oil in the world, and control all the lands
and peoples because they are superior; they have white skin
and Christianity.

The presidency is allied with Christian extremists who don’t
consider themselves extremists, rather Christian soldiers
working to claim all this for their God, a god who gave them
the right to kill Indians and gives them the right to takeover
the Middle East. Christian and Muslim fundamentalists over
the globe now battle for control.

A giant tsunami swallowed and destroyed the coastline
of Thailand, and other parts of Asia, killed thousands.
Last week Hurricane Katrina destroyed the coastal south
of the U.S.. New Orleans, a major city of over a million is
underwater. The refugees of the tragedy are those without
money or means to get out. Most are black, or poor whites.
They are without food, water or shelter. We watch them die
on the streets. Corpses swell and float in the water with
trash and offal. We watched the explosion of the chemical
plant in the ruins. Angry clouds spewed from the wound.
A voice of authority on the storyteller box: the television,
tells everyone that the fumes are not poisonous. We saw
the smoke rear back and search the city for lungs. It takes
four days for the feds to send assistance.
The president is golfing.

I don’t want to hate Christianity. I loved the Book of John
in those years I took myself to church. There is wisdom there,
and Jesus is a medicine man. I believe he is a son of god,
and so are you, and so am I. We are sons and daughter
of a father/mother God.

Yesterday I went to church with my friend at the pueblo.
I haven’t been inside a church to a service in years.
I decided to attend in the right spirit. I respect my friend
and I respect what takes people to religion. It’s often that
need to attend to spiritual matters, to find comfort
and direction. Sometimes it’s fear. It’s fear that
established churches and religion in our native communities.

We were forced to bow down to their Christianity.
We were forced to their religious schools and beliefs.
Force has now turned into habit.

What I appreciated and took part in was that sense
of community, of love and compassion. Prayers filled the church
and hung there. Some had the force of will and light and they
traveled. That’s what I took with me.

Joy Harjo September 2005