I love the roots, my heritage
And though I have a trace of others,
This Anglo-saxon parentage
Goes back in time, in praise of mothers.
Chants around pre-historic fires
The past: caucasian celebration;
Collective history inspires,
Born of God: bright incarnation!
Our tribes and nations have resisted
Brutal empires and oppression—
Other peoples were assisted
By our yet imperfect mission.
Since I identify as white,
I search my roots and find delight.
If you despise our varied color,
You are free to choose another.
Some find a lot to criticize.
(Blondes admit there’s something there…)
But it comes as no unbound surprise:
It’s obvious— you love our hair.
PROMPT #15
write your own poem that muses on love,
but isn’t a traditional love poem
in the sense of expressing love
between romantic partners.
image: Saint John Pentych, Mati Klarwein (1962)
CONNECT/HOOK 
All smiles for this one…
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Yo ma white sista, we gone git DOWN ! Powah 2 tha people!
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Get down or a hoe-down lol my hoe will be down today working my hill Billie garden…usins poor white folks gotta eat…a good idea though, to stop being we the pawns and take our power back from uncle Donny and the Cheeto heads. 🤪
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Youns done got me all ethnickly conFUSED now
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You,uns is Appalachian, Ozarkers are you’ins, as in…show me your allegiance we ain’t federalists nor confederate, just ornery Ozark independent…pretty much quiet anarchists but not amoral…we don’t like people tell in’ us what to do, so we do it ourselves, even if we don’t know how to do it….as fur yor confusion? Just git yor heart right and yor head will clear right up! That’s true Ozarker wisdom right that…
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