Forgive me. I am a thief.

Forgive me. I am a thief.
I’ve come to steal back what is mine.
What should have been mine.
They stole my birthright long before I was born.
Sold what they could.
Fouled what they couldn’t.
Those that stand now blame me for my lack.
They deny me even the names of what was lost.
But under the monuments
Meant to blame me of their crimes ongoing.
Under the monuments
Lie the graves of those that paid the cost of standing.
Lie the rivers that erodes all things in time.
Lie the voices that need no language to speak.
They and much more call my name.
I tried to answer in the language I know.
Bastardized words and mimicked phrases of vanity.
They only called louder.
I tried to answer in the ways open to me.
Museum tour guides led me through false histories.
They only called deeper.
I went to those that now hold my birthright
And demanded what was mine before life began.
But what will those that hoard what they have
give to one that doesn’t even know the depth of her lack?
Threats and curses. Slave chains and betrayals.
And still I am called.
It was by thievery that I lost.
So it is by thievery that I gain.
Forgive me. I am a thief.
Taking back what is mine, piece by hard worked piece.