Guns and Words

1 December 2014

and so these are words
the shadows in mouths
marking blackness
between the spaces of teeth

bold and raw barnacles sticking to gums
that make the Canadian psyche shutter
since truth is to be hidden behind the lips
and across this mosaic land a crop of lies is what
Canada has given to the world

I am the mixed blood of contempt
but my mother’s people put me on mountains
so that my own salvation dripped
from the sweat and tears I offered as prayer
to build a future for my grandchildren

no vision was offered
but the words of my ancestors tore open
from my throat to fall onto paper to write poetry
to use the weapon of the white man
because all they believe in is the ink that splatters on wood

I am nothing
I have nothing
but the words and images of volcanic poetry
will you point a gun at me for this?

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