As I walked to the museum, my brain filled with joy

As I walked into the art gallery, I got ready to be taken on a trip, the cheese bus told me so

As I walked through the museum, I looked forward to the present and this future, while looking

at the past.

As I walk through this space now, I know what has happened

I walk into this gallery, and my ancestors looked back at me

As I trodd through this museum, I walk on sacred land, and of course without recognition, I am

sorry

As I tippy-toe through this museum, I wonder what lies below these four walls .

I walk through this museums, and I pass the oppressors who plagued my blood line

As I walk through this space, I take in what was once mine, in my past life

As I walk through museum, I wish I can steal that mask

As I run through this museum my mind takes me back

I am ashamed

I am ashamed as I think about how my people’s most prized possessions were stolen

how land from which bread and blood was broken

how women and children ,mocked and jeered were exploited and abused for their very token

And how somber slashes, gunshots, dog bites, genocide and strange fruit from our past, still

mock and find a way to repercuss into these statues,

I am ashamed that we still sing the same blues while they give their “it was four hundred years

ago” excuse

Our bloodshed, tears, and oppression woven

Into your american flag

They be ashamed of themselves, for getting mad when we want our land, art, amd people back.

as I leave this museum

I Am ashamed that colonization has its own artistic sequel

that they want our art, but not my people.