I am Both
i am strong
like bloody
iron and steel
i am mighty
i am sister
to the grand mountains
overlooking the land
generation after
generation
after generation
I AM Sky Woman
plummeting fast
through the air
in complete trust
into the arms
of my people
i am so strong
i make strong people
feel empowered
my power feeds the
solid air waves
sending encouraging messages
out to the masses
touching far reaches
of every territory
and i stand
with the bravest
of warriors
in defense
and in defiance
i raise my voice
in love and in song
to praise the powers
that came before me
i embrace truth
like a long lost
relation
finding their way back home
i am all these things
singularly and all together
because i know
who i am
i am
a strong
indian
woman
and
i am tired and timid
i have the shame
of seven generations
running through my veins
i have not learned
to turn off the tortured
voices telling me lies
and I will not try
i will not be myself
because
i don’t know
who that is
i have no strength
to defend myself
i worry every minute
about a future that may not be
i HATE my brothers and sisters
because - they don’t
know how to live
i do not believe my culture
will save me,
it has no place in this life
i am a fake
i mistake kindness
and am suspicious of it
i don’t keep promises
especially to myself
i expect the smallest
amount of everything
and i am willing
to beg for it
i am weakened by my addictions
and sickened by the addictions
that keep my people weak
i will not tell the truth
and i accept my right
to remain silent
i will hide my true blood
and do everything to
blend in because
i
don’t
care
i am
an
indian
woman
Being Indian
being Indian takes more than having a status card stuffed in your wallet
it takes jabs to the heart
in the face too once or twice
it takes brown skin, so the white race can judge you
it takes a strong spirit born of humility
and the ability to withstand more of the same
it takes love
love of community, so you feel blessed when surrounded by your people
to be part of your survivor race
it takes a sense of responsibility
to the brown youth, to instill pride
act as an example, while you look to your Elders as a measure of your path
it takes poverty in the pocket to use that Ingin-nuity
it takes stories, lots and lots and lots of stories
it takes rough skin and bad breath, it takes scars and blood
it takes knowing your songs, old, old songs sung in your language
with drums and rattles and dancers moving in clock-wise and counter clock-wise
circles - - - - - -can you see it?
it takes belly laughs and dry humour
it takes that innate bingo gene – we’ve all played at least once.
it takes animals visiting your dreams
speaking to your spirit, silent messages of encouragement or warning
it takes gratitude of everything, everyday – I’m not even kidding
it takes alcoholism and abuses of every kind
- racial abuse sexual abuse and most importantly self-abuse
BEING INDIAN TAKES MORE
it takes hate
it takes growing out of that hate into calm stoic acceptance
it takes beautiful eyes, pitch black beads
it takes more that sporting jewelry dangling obvious around your neck
it takes stomachs lined with grease and flour
empty of foods that feed our bodies.
being Indian is more than a word
it’s a way of life
i think like an Indian
he walks like an Indian
we breed like Indians
because
we like sex we’re good at it
it takes father-less children
whose knowledge of their fathers is sketchy at best
it takes a wise Indian to refuse pedestals
to choose their battles carefully
BEING INDIAN TAKES MORE
it takes millions of staff
to keep us in count
had enough?
too bad
being Indian takes getting in your face and staying there
till more Indians come or the cops arrive
usually in that order
it takes tear drops as big and as many to fill the Grand Canyon
being Indian is a full time job
there’s no such thing as a weekend Indian
it takes forms and records
it takes cheques and grants
it takes turning those grants into beautiful Indian art
that lives in museums
as tangible evidence
of our hard earned existence
it takes gatherings and powwows feasts and potlatches
It takes going home
BEING INDIAN TAKES MORE
being Indian means BEING INDIAN, not First Nations, Aboriginal or Indigenous
- there’s a difference
being Indian takes lies and the truth
and instincts as strong as rock
to know the difference
being Indian takes anger and adoption
it takes removal and memories
loss of memories
it takes denial
denial of identity
as you walk past a long haired brother begging for change
you think
that’s not me guess again
being Indian takes literacy
the ability to read clouds
and signals of smoke
dissemination of belts in beads
invitations of wampum
it takes AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL
my relations
without hesitation
to answer the call
being Indian takes more…
that’s all
Satisfying Torture
Her portrait stared down at me like a silent gargoyle from on high. She hung there, immortalized in muted pigments and linseed oil captured in a virgin white shirt and dark brown curls cascading loosely over her shoulders. I asked him several times to remove the picture.
“Put it away” I’d gently suggest.
He would sigh and fain consideration of my request and flatly reply
“No.”
That summer, our son discovered how to torture ants using a magnifying glass. I made him leave it behind while he went off to camp. The magnifying glass waited on the kitchen counter for him to return – I waited for 3 o’clock when the sun shone it’s fullest into our living room. I approached the portrait, magnifying glass in hand as if it was revolver. I couldn’t stop the smile that crept over my face as I raised the glass, winked one eye shut and fixed the angle of the glass over her oil based eye. It took only seconds for the paint to begin liquefying, like a tear welling up. I held the glass in place until the canvas was exposed and things started to smoke. The light was strong and it hit a hole right through.
I was giddy and ashamed at the same time. The next day, I went back for more. I focused in on the other eye, then a nostril, then an ear lobe; places dark enough not be noticed. I sat empowered and indignant as his family filled our living room and spoke of her with such honour. I fired 12 more shots into her that summer.
Our son returned home with exciting stories of camp and went right back to his game of satisfying torture.
Indian Sex
tones of tanned flesh
pressed together
long black hair
twisted tangled
between fingers
red tongues exposed
then hidden
dark eyes squeezed hard
shut tight
animal movement caught
in moonlight
howling and growling
sounds of rustling
thrusting
panting breathing
hearts beating
dangerous pleasures
a scratch a bite
strong fingers hold tight
two potent people
power creatures
come together
above
the lovers
rattles rustle
singers scream
Indian sex makes
nature smile
whirlwinds fly
paints the sky
pink orange
dusty sweat bleeds
from every pore
energy transforms
clouds begin to cry
cleansing blessing
natural acts
satisfied
Writing