Connect with us

The Poetic Word

A place called home

Published

on

Photo Credit: Roberto Nickson

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

I am currently a teacher in Nemaska, Eeyou Isstchee, Quebec for this school year, teaching creative arts for grade 7-9s. My transition from Toronto to here has been a roller coaster, and I was confused by all the strong mixed emotions. It wasn’t until I flipped the first few pages of ‘Going Home, The Untold Story of The Nemaska Eenouch’ by Susan Marshall with George Wapachee, that I finally started to understand…

 

A place called home

Away from home

A place made to be called home

After being forced out

From the place that was called home

 

A place where elders found life

To a place that their ears cringed

At motor vehicles

Evicted by electric hydro company

A battle that seemed endless

For the Cree people

 

A place deep in the bushes

Filled with lifestyles that were present

Since the very beginning

A place where children begged their families to stay,

When that plane came to enter Old Nemaska,

To the residential place

Filled with assaults and endless hunger for days

 

A place that birth mistrust, even amongst the closest of kin

A place where metal rulers met the tender skin

When tears were overflowing with memories

That brought smiles to frowns on the kids

 

A place called home

Far away from home

A place filled with delicacies like beaver, moose & geese

To expensive imports

 

To one school

A close

Yet circular housing of separated relatives,

The remnants of colonial influence

Spread into heads

Stirring bad aftertaste

Whenever traditions

Could be used passed on

Such as the ceremony of smudging

 

A place that hides way too many stories

So outspoken like a rooster early in the morning

Yet the rage hungers like animals awoken during hibernation

For not having satisfaction of being full during autumn

 

A rage that plagues like the thick blanket of snow

Covering the peaceful lake that reveals the name it means

‘Land of Plenty of Fish’

 

A place that deserves the love

And should receive more love…

But often is forgotten within the blizzards

 

A place called home

Away from home

Beside the Champion Lake

A place that was forced to be born

More stories to tell

Among the young and the old.

 

Don’t know how long

Will the duration of this stay last

Before the feet on this land departs back

Into a city where memories of home stands

But the stories of the people of these land

Will be written and read

Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

The Poetic Word

Anger!

Published

on

Photo Credit: Way Home Studio

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

Anger.

Is an infected seed that spreads

Its parasitic roots amongst the healthy,

Sucking out all the energy to feed its

Hostile core.

 

Anger.

A cry for help

Gone unheard,

Dismissed,

Ridiculed by others

Until it is too late to reverse.

 

Anger.

Weeping entities that grew into behemoth

Icebergs that sank ships of inattentive

Folks that didn’t take heed.

Gasping at the inferno storm

That engulfs the intended targets

And catching strays.

 

Anger.

Sprouted by variables,

Some reasons more legit while others

Are confused because of pride.

It can be blinded by veils of blood red,

Tainted by innocence ravished

By the world’s ice-cold hearts and eyes.

 

Anger.

Shoots out a barrage of arrows

Formed by words without thinking twice.

Venomous words at the tip of the tongue

Can cause landslides of emotions.

Sometimes it can cost lives.

 

Anger.

Does not discriminate.

It hits harder on genuine souls that

Constantly get bullied,

Turning their kindred spirits into a beast

That will destroy until nothing is left behind.

 

Anger.

Cannot be fully avoided.

Only reactions be tamed,

One can only fully embrace

To calm anger

Till the end of a jagged road,

When the answers behind Anger

Can be acknowledged,

Laying it to rest finally someday.

Continue Reading

The Poetic Word

Art of Political Warfare

Published

on

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

War without logic,

Is like planting seeds without knowing,

The seasons in which the seedlings

Will rise and thrive to the heavens.

War strictly on emotions and passion,

Is like showering the seeds

With overwhelming resources

Without strategy.

 

Too much water, sun and soil

With no calculations can cause

Undetected diseases to destroy

A seed’s crucial foundation.

A society that follows social media justice,

Is doomed when things get real.

 

Protection warranty behind twitter fingers,

Keyboard warriors,

Would defeat the right to remain silence

During mischief court hearings.

Without teachings and common sense,

Fear tactics will prevail.

 

If one enters a movement to find love,

To make friends,

Dangers of destruction are at hand.

Those will come natural

But can never be promised,

How many organizers fall victim

To the matters of the heart.

They gradually forgotten why they were in

This the first place,

This journey can be lonely throughout.

 

An elder and veteran with years of

Political warfare once told the emerging

Youth,

This war is not for the faint of heart.

You must use logic,

Must use your head.

The heart,

Is the reason to push

But it can never lead without the brain

And a plan.

Or be prepared to lose the war in a

Quick pace,

This life has no space for childish games.

Remember the people need to win!

Continue Reading

The Poetic Word

Sweet Child

Published

on

Photo Credit: AI Generated

BY GLORIA O’KOYE

A rejuvenating, sweet, innocent newborn scent that can melt the coldest of hearts.

A salve that soothes the itchiness left by worldly scars.

First of everything,

From smiles to sounds can bring peace

Piercing heavy clouds.

 

The purity of a child brings wisdom that can humble

The wisest of teachers from afar.

In the first few weeks of life,

Skin-to-skin between parents and child,

It can strengthen lifelong bonds.

 

It promotes life through connections,

Never underestimate true parental love.

The love of a child can save lives,

Can uplift even when dangling by a thread

Above the turbulent winds

And treacherous seas of fear and doubt.

 

The love of a parent

Can break the lineage of trauma and hurt,

Uproot tainted family trees

In ways that insanity has no way in,

Only culture and traditions can come to full fruition

As they fully sprout.

 

Sweet child,

Don’t ever say that you are never enough.

You came just in time

When the glimmer of hope wants to dim out.

A love of a child

The mind of a child,

Is what the world constantly lacks.

 

Only a childlike faith can enter the gates of heaven,

Surpassing forefathers who grew cold from a dying world

Lies and deceit,

A child will heal those wounds and breathe in life.

 

That power

Sweet child,

No one can ever take it away,

It is highly favored from beyond human comprehension,

Continue to be you

Sweet child.

Continue Reading

Trending