Native
-
Before I self destruct Take me under your wing Lift me up to higher places Yet, keep me firmly grounded Before I self destruct I pray for healing The pain that is within Mend what is broken Before I self destruct I take time to meditate To allow the forces of the universe Provide me
-
You with the brown skin and brown hair. I see you walking this journey, working on trying to be a better man. Anishinaabe Kwewag are counting on you, for your Respect, Love, Honesty, Wisdom, Bravery, Truth and Humility. These days it seems you have forgotten us. Leaving us to do the work of protecting the sacred. We need your
-
As the sun begins to fade, the waves bounce off the rocks and glide over the sand. Water can be as gentle as a summer’s breeze or hard as a mountain top. Water can make or destroy life; powerful unlike anything other. As I sit on a rock by the water’s edge I am reminded
-
The morning sun breaks through the darkness of night. She wakens, opens her eyes to a beautiful view of the city line. She walks over to the window and thinks to herself its going to be a beautiful day and thanks the Creator for allowing her to live another day. The morning goes great she has
-
Since I have been concentrating on bettering myself life hasn’t gotten any easier, but, it has become more significant. There is meaning in a day. Not that time has become more valuable, more so that it has become a means to make the most of my life. I have forgotten what it was like to
-
Up until recently I have never heard of the term inter-generational trauma. According to the University of Calgary it defines the term as the transmission of historical oppression and its negative consequences across generations. What does that mean to me as an Indigenous woman? It means the abuse that I thought was “normal” from family
-
I remember the things my Nokimis and Noshimis use to say and show me as young child. At the time I did not understand what exactly it was they were trying to teach me. It seemed a bit confusing at the time as I was just a young girl. I was sent to live with
-
Who am I? It took me 40 years to be able to honestly answer this question. The fact of the matter is that I never really took the time to ask myself this. I was to caught up in trying to figure out who everyone else was around me. The conditionings of my culture had
-
On my home it hit me, the intergenerational trauma I feel my sisters pain and their loved ones so brave to keep making a stand year after year for our sisters spirits that are stuck between worlds. The ones who never made it home. As I stood outside in the bitter cold of this February
RED ROAD KWE 