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The Poetic Word

Our culture is Endangered; It’ll be Extinct by the Next Generation

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Photo Credit: Askar Abayev

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

Spoke to a knowledge keeper not too many moons ago,

An old soul filled with fear and tears with every syllable

 

“Our youth don’t care, our language is dying!”

“Our culture is endangered, it’ll be extinct by the next generation, if we don’t keep fighting!”

 

Watched a hunter cut up a moose with precision

Road kills be a city hassle,

But up here,

It’ll feed families

So, it’s seen as respect and a celebration

 

Every part is used for something

Nothing is wasted

 

“But ask the youth right now, they would only dance among the bushes as long the money sings,”

“The old days, it was different, now so many things had changed!”

 

Many will eat their fill,

But only few will prepare

This happens worldwide,

Where traditions slowly die

 

One world one order,

Like invasive species tampering with the ecosystems that existed since the first grains of time trickled

 

The elders watch from afar,

How the grasp of residential schools

Blow cursed kisses to generations,

Suffocating the culture

Once strong and proud,

Now constant battles between school board and younger parents,

To keep the language and cultural classes

 

The parents had never experienced the beauty of the bush life,

Only knew about aftermath the first encounter with colonized life

 

These stories remind me of my suffocating culture, my loss of communication

Without language there is no culture

And I believe many will be lost in this lifetime

 

I bet those who read and hear this will know

Of their mother and father tongue’s

Worth and value

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The Poetic Word

Meaning of Life

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Photo Credit: Freepik

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

Religions warned without faith

In a God, or countless Gods and Goddesses

Would mean an unfulfilling life.

Texts adorned with precious and humble ores

Wrapped in myrrh and olive oil

Filled up the spaces of doubt and restlessness.

Caution a meaningless life

Without something to believe in.

 

To have a purpose is a lifelong

Prescription to perfumes and cosmetic

Treatments.

Filled with spices like aloe and cassia

Represent resurrection,

Life bringing,

Purposes differ like fingerprints and snowflakes.

Not one is the exact same,

Only advice and blueprints will guide

But there is no such thing as a solid solution.

 

The meaning of life is unique to each one’s journey.

No need to brag, or put down,

Trading places is more common like

The fields of dandelions

Taking over the vast plains,

A river that breaks into streams

But eventually meet the mighty ocean

Of life

The same way.

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The Poetic Word

Everlasting Flames-to be Submitted

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Photo Credit: rawpixel.com

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

Passion being fulfilled

Is like cottonwood fluff burning evenly

Across the land.

 

Not being caught up by any unnecessary

Distractions.

No need to set off forest fires

That don’t need to be provoked,

If there were no blessings

And ceremonies that are ancestral

Wisdom led.

 

Knowing that achievements stack up

Internal minds

Is refreshing to quench the thirst of

Success, like an oasis within a desert.

 

It is a breath of fresh air to the spirit

When all was given so the fruits are

Real,

Unlike wishful thinking without

Determination shown in actions

Is like praying while walking through

Scorching sands.

 

Not distinguishing which water of life

Are mirages

Tempting for a taste,

Deceiving any visions.

 

Even divine messages are lost

If a heart

Stubborn as boulders

Does not listen to the intuitions

Cautioning with series of

Discernments.

A open minded being

Will have doors open.

A humble being that knows their worth

Will succeed without burning any bridges.

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The Poetic Word

Trust In Silence

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BY GLORIA O’KOYE

When was the last time

that you sat in silence?

Where every detailed sound

From the whistling wind,

Talking trees,

Busy traffic made of streams,

Tingled the ear drums

Away from manmade machines.

 

When was the last time

Embracing nature gifts

was of great importance?

Spilling secrets

No human mind would comprehend,

Only the wisest ancients

Found deep in the Earth’s crust

Would tell nothing,

No one,

A type of loyalty that no fame and money

Would make it

Turn into a sellout.

 

When was the last interaction

Between skin and sand

Had the body had time to heal itself.

Transferring tensions into the ground

Balancing unwanted weight

Into Mother Nature’s arms.

 

When was the last time

Natural medicinal plants and food

Was replenishing

Detoxing clogged up organs.

Instead of destroying natural remedies,

And claim cures by injecting the body

Will more poison.

 

Relying on money hungry policies.

Bylaws instigating destruction.

When was the last time

Silence was allowed to answer

Mind boggling questions.

Allow silence to discern

To caution on everything around

Only silence will speak the loudest!

Trust in silence.

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