Creator’s Favourites

i wake up beside you and check my phone to see if any empire has fallen overnight.
dreams polymictically shared between our thoughts in a non-marital bed. the dying
embers of the american dream sounds like a pretty good honeymoon destination.
can you book flights there? you cannot really be considered a nation without
your own language or customs, so patriotism for a settler country will only ever
be propaganda in my brown eyes. poetry used for nefarious means aka asking
us to vote for people committing genocide on brown babies elsewhere, instead
of just brown babies here. the child welfare system in canada has turned native
children into an industry. you could take everything from cree people and we’ll
still collectively believe that we’re creator’s favourite and i love that for us. this is
because we were given a beautiful language and story to inhabit, instructions on
how to live, land that cares for us. i want to exist on a planet where we all live
within our original instructions, recognizing that some may have to unearth theirs,
dig for them with their bare hands. perhaps in this digging we unearth forgotten
streams, flowing, movement. to me, poems are about two interrelated things:
justice and beauty. i got paid to write poems by the same government that ships
arms that kill children to try and claim a holy land which will never be won over
with guns. i pay taxes to a government that continues to dispossess me of my holy
land that may never be won over with prayers. poems against empire will always
remain. children will dance on the embers of empire together, wearing beadwork
and weaving.