Unearth

I was only ten years-old 

planting a tree when I found it:

an old Indian arrowhead

the earth couldn’t digest

and I thought

how strange it was to remember them

in their hides and colourful skin -

a people who conquered

a people who were conquered.



I carried that dull piece of flint

with me as I grew up,

tied it to my identity tags

when I travelled

to the frontlines and headlines,

and I thought for a moment

how strange it was to remember them,

their barbaric weapons,

their horses, their braided hair

and peace pipes.



I ran my fingers under my helmet

to wipe the burning sweat away;

I traced my shaved head

and its efficient lines

down to my neck and I

knew then the desert

would someday grow palm trees

and underneath their roots

a young soul would someday

come across a relic

the earth couldn’t digest.

© Adam Welsh