Addicted to the Real

I see them on the screen, they lie to me, pretend to want me. They twist me into something I’m not and teach me all the wrong things.

They tell me how to love, tell me that it’s okay. I want to stop but I can’t, they taunt me in my dreams and are there when I wake and go to sleep.

I know that this is not right, that I need to escape. I fight to disconnect  to log out, to be free.

I want, I need someone real. I want to feel the goose bumps rise as I caress them.  I let their scent intoxicate me, arouse me. Their touch bringing me back to life.

Steamy windows created by the heat of our souls embrace. Drops of sweat mingle like lovers dancing to the sounds of heart beats coming together. Losing each other in ecstasy as we explode and colapse in a molten embrace.

Your eyes speak to my soul, asking me for more. As I kiss your trembling lips with their taste like a drug. Our bodies connect once more, I hear you gasp as you open yourself up to me. The smile, anticipating a river of ecstasy flowing over us, drowning us in love once more.

Single Mom

You were born only to be abandoned. You grew up with the unwanted, herded like cattle by strangers in white collars. People passing you by like yesterday’s news.

Abuse was a daily issue, something to be expected and something that happened often. You would carry the sting of their violations like scar on your soul. But you wouldn’t let it corrupt you.

You found love with a man who created troubled landscapes, who gave you two children. And when you began to thrive that man who created those landscapes walked away.

He left you behind with two mouths to feed. You found a strength you never knew you had. And when another bout with love gave you one more you still stood tall.

The life you created came out in your art. You were a teacher, you taught us about our traditions, our people.  Your stories were so popular that children from different lands began to benefit from hearing about our history and ancestors.

Then one day in May, you went to sleep, you joined our ancestors in the spirit world. People from all over who were touched by you shared their stories but we were the ones left to pick up the pieces.

Now 25 years later, we thrive. Like you taught us, we continued the story. We see you every day in the smiles and laughter of your grandchildren. You taught us to grow, to be ourselves and because of that you will never be truly gone.

 

The Forrest through the Trees

I have feared many things as I walked through the trees that lay in the shadows of my life. I have felt the stings of their violations. Tasted the blood of my many broken hearts, been broken and rebuilt.

Enemies, frenemies, friends. They all wear the same mask, some walk with me, some work against me but few help me. I was born in anger, grew up in hatred and lived in tears. A smile hides the pain and loneliness.

The sun begins to rise, I see the light through the trees of this forest I walk. My scars slowly begin to heal, my heart begins to wake. The hatred and pain start to fade and as I wipe away the tears new memories begin to grow.

As I emerge from the forest the sun, so bright that at first that I shy away from its gaze. But then it dawns on me, this is what the journey is all about.
My scars begin to disappear my, heart once again begins to fill me with warmth. My life is healing, I am growing, I am free.

Untitled

How many of us have to to die, go missing, be raped before justice listens? The blood our people have spilled have wet the ground for centuries. Our children have been stolen, our families shattered and our land taken all due to the arrogance of white men.

To this day our people have been made to live in fear, a fear that has been driven, beaten, shot, stabbed and raped into our very bodies. In the last 500 years our identities have been bombarded by men who are called pillars of our history. Their statues litter the land, a reminder of the atrocities they committed and fawned over by their ancestors.

The schools tried to erase us, the men with white collars, callous hearts and empty souls, the sting of their violations like ripples in a pool lasting generations. They taught hate in schools, they created Gerald Stanley and Raymond Cormier and thousands like them. They created ignorance that we feel even today.

Our two faced politicians who shed tears, kiss babies and at the same time deny our children basic human rights. Their tears buying our votes with empty promises and back room deals, selling away our children, our land and our souls.

We never forgot, the generations of genocide would not let us. “A good Indian is a dead Indian” the man on the radio says, his words are like the stones thrown at women, children and elders during the Crisis. The violence we experienced that day was just another chapter in the long history of massacres, land theft, stolen children and degradation.

The change that our two faced politicians talk about is the trickle down economics of social change, I say trickle down because like every other promise it doesn’t exist. I grow tired of the fight but I know that we must continue. We are the symbol of the voice yet to be born. The words of our elders continue to lead us, guide us like they always have on the path towards growth.

We must continue to educate and fight the ignorance that permeates every corner of our society. It’s the idea that must be destroyed, the idea of white supremacy which has plagued our land for centuries. Growth cannot happen without truth and that cannot happen without honesty. To have true honesty our society will have to look in the mirror and acknowledge that of which most of them cannot, that hate exists.

We must acknowledge that white supremacy helped Gerald Stanley and Raymond Cormier commit and get away with their horrific crimes. Change will only happen when we no longer allow fear to hold us back, to keep our mouths shut. Change will happen when we look at each other as equals and help one another to heal, to grow and to teach.

We are not defined by a stereotype, we are not the alcoholic, the drug addict, the sex worker, or the homeless person. We are teachers, doctors, social workers, lawyers and Chiefs. We are actors, writers, poets, singers and Djs. But most importantly we are nations of people, people that have been the stewards of this land for a millennia.

The Gas Lighter

You came into my life wearing a mask, with this mask you covered yourself in lies and manipulations. You were loud, obnoxious and charming, you called yourself a Queen.. but you were anything but. You pretended to be my friend, helped me when no one else would. Made rely on you, made me trust you and when you had your claws in me only then did your true colours begin to show.

You started hitting me but I wouldn’t defend myself, like the bullies of old I had become a man filled with fear and anxiety. When I asked you to stop you began using words to belittle me and cut me to the bone. Still I did nothing, paralyzed by the mistakes of the past, mistakes that you used to keep your hold on me.

When you started to touch me, I did not know what to do and every time you did I was 8 years old again being assaulted by my neighbour. I did not know what to do, you controlled the information. So I stayed silent, too afraid of what you would do. Belittled by your words I became further lost and just when I thought it couldn’t get worse….you raped me.

It began when you threatened to hurt yourself, that you would do something crazy if I didn’t let you have me. I wanted to say no but I knew if I did I would lose friends and my anxiety, my fear made me say yes. You would use that excuse to rape me again and again, it got to the point that I would cringe every time I saw your name come up on my view screen.

Whenever I started dating you would get mad, call them whores and various other names. You hated what they represented, they were a barrier between you and me so you did your best to dehumanize them, call them names, try and make me feel the same way. You wanted me for yourself, what was it you said to me. “All the work I’ve put in to you and you choose the whore.”

That was the moment, the moment I saw a crack of light and the light was freedom.

You began to make mistakes, your lies became more transparent and I became stronger. The abuse got worse as did your lies until one day a war between us broke out. But this time I had words of my own, years of pain broke free and like a mighty river I broke out of the prison you put me in. Every time you tried to deflect my words it only made my resolve stronger. Until you blamed me for everything, making it out to be my fault.

That was the moment I woke up, like a prisoner in solitary confinement I was finally free. That crack of light became a gaping hole and when stepped through I felt my sins wash away, I was wounded but I was free.

I ended my connection to you that day and now nearly 4 years later the scars have begun to heal. You are a simple afterthought and empty person who loves only himself and who needs a mask to hide his shame, his insecurity, his cowardice.

Today I breath freely knowing that you cannot hurt me. Though the damage you caused still prevents from allowing love into my life I have at least learned to love myself and those around me. And even after all the pain you caused me I feel that I can say this.

I forgive you.

I say this not for you but for me. I know now that it was never my fault and I refuse to carry this pain for another day. You can’t hurt me, you don’t scare me and you never will. My life is filled with people who love me and who treat me with dignity. That breath of fresh air that passes through me every morning is me knowing that I am on the path the Creator set out for me, a path of forgiveness, dignity and most of all….love!