Can I call myself an Indian? Who should I ask, In the depths of our blood, the truth resides,
Though tribe-unknown, and the path unclear, a question echoes through a challenging task.
A spirit raven, a connection abides. we carry the legacy, the heritage dear.

Can you call yourself an Indian, if in your heart, in the struggle, the pain, the strife,
In the quiet corners of an ancestral plea, you are a living testament to a forbidden life,
the echoes of the past play a vital part, I begged my mother, “Unveil for me!”

Her response was a tempest’s roar, in her eyes, a storm of generational hurt,
she gave no Indian name to carry the song, only threats and anger, pain she bore.
A legacy buried, hurting in each spurt, I can claim no tribe to which I truly belong.

Yet, in my veins, the blood runs deep, I yearned for the tales, the ancient lore,
But fear echoed in her stern command, a heritage denied, a secret to keep,
Forbade to understand what came before. “Silence, or be disowned!” is her demand.

I am blood, but the hue is blurred, A white bird in the complexity of kin,
The Raven whispers truths, though veiled in flight, whitewashed echoes, the truth unheard.
A tale of loss, where do I begin? Spirit Raven, a beacon of ancestral light.

I am whitewashed, yet blood I claim, I am blood, though the story’s obscured,
In whispered echoes of a family’s past, a silent witness to the family’s shame.
In the dance of contradictions, I am assured a tale half-told, where shadows everlast.

A mother’s eyes held a torrent unspoken, A father once, an Indian by blood,
though blood runs true, through veins unseen, A history veiled, a heritage broken.
A secret tethered, hidden in the flood, a yearning soul, caught in between.

The raven’s spirit, a guide unseen, sings how our roots may hide, our name untied,
A tale of kin, obscured in mist, a whispering wind in a world so keen,
But within, that spirit does abide, a grandfather’s past, in shadows kissed.

A mother’s silence, anger’s sway, forbidden love in bygone days,
threats unyielding, pain revealed, her eyes betraying, yet held at bay.
A heritage shunned in hidden ways. a legacy muted, yet unconcealed.

In the past lies buried, a tangled vein, a grandfather’s tale, in silence kept,
A love denied, of differing race, of kinship’s tie, beset with pain.
A mother’s fury, her secrets wept, a bond concealed, in hidden grace.

To seek one’s past, a daring quest, In a family’s tale, a secret’s thrum,
Truth, a mix of anger and fear, Unveiling verity, in shadows dressed.
A heritage lost, yet spirit’s hum of a story untold, yet oh so near.

Spirit Raven, following close, whitewashed so clean,
Whispers of roots, nobody knows. A legacy is hidden, a story untamed,
Indian blood, in veins unseen. yet in our hearts, it’s forever named.