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I remember when I saw Hialeah after waking up. The members of the raiding band cautiously behind me. She was cooking food for all. I knew few english words, my name being John; but she didn’t mind. I met her eyes and she already knew mine. We fell in love, and I joined her raiding party. We survived tons of gunfire as colonist numbers grew and grew. We even got through a pregnancy in a winter woods in the MicMaq lands now called New England. Aponi, our little treasure, skipping in the snow. Hialeah’s feet after the pregnancy always needed extra comfort. I had to make special shoes for her. Then, the colonists in 1775 finally wanted to not be english. We talked about what we should do. She reminded all of us, her people were assaulted by the colonist and had to flee. The colonists fable of being aided is their version of saying they stole from native people. Her people of the Powhatan Confederacy had to protect our food from colonists, who eventually raided across the Tsenacommacah and made it Virginia. She will never forgive the colonists, whether they call themselves english or american. And the persistence of their myth of friendship, sickens her very soul. I agreed, some others joined me and her, but most chose to go farther west. I didn’t know about my people across the great water, but I will never forgive the colonists, no matter what they call themselves either. And, we few went south. We were at the battle for Jersey. I even saw a flamboyant soldier defend against the colonists. After meeting Richard Freeman, he told me that Ethiopia is a place across the big water. Since I never heard of a place across the great water where I came from before, I called myself John Ethiopia. And then, the war got worse. My beautiful land was shot during a raid, I held our butterfly, as her mother sung her last song to her. And, in 1783, the war ended. Me plus our daughter, the last of our band, were sent to Nova Scotia. The cold was too much for the little butterfly and she died. Alone, cold, my memory of her with our little life losing color or definition in the last thoughts in my life. My spirit now gives thanks not living under the colonists, as their kingdom grew. A kingdom full of thieves. I give thanks for being eternally free from its lies, side my loving wife and child. Beyond the confines or the reach of the eagle. Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below Poetry or More https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1 Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49 AALBC https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/