St. Eugene: Not a Poetry Video (yet)

Here are the gates. Beside them, an image from an older time, another purpose. Here is the gorgeous architecture. And beside it, tribute to the children brought here. Building and children face East, where the sun rises steadfast over blue mountains. Here is the message, the new mission. And here, the window of the room…

Busy Bees Salute

To be ten, is to be at the crest of a wave the best of your days have led up to this height where the view of the future is open and brave and you’ve grown past your fear of the night. These young girls, in their tender years already wise, for their fathers survived…

On the Topic of Fishing*

Miss Manners is strangely quiet on the topic of fishing; she sits in meditation on the point where necessity goes to the highest bidder. All Life is sacred, her granny taught; so the fish is sacred as is the worm, as is her own belly, engine house of her soul. How to honour all this?…

As If We Believe in the Light

April is ugly in April in Edmonton but swans ripple high overhead and we lift up our eyes to their arrows as if we believe in warm wind it is grit brown and slouched but the crouching sun gains day by day and we track it home over the river as if we believe in…

Worm Medicine

earthworm, indivisible one, you feed on smaller things what is dead, and what is rotting food of worms, no glory until above you, sky riots with beauty that feeds on your tiny work was it you? st. francis held in his hand, praying make me a channel of Your peace here, this reeking moment, break…

Shimmer

Who remembers, jingles with the buzz; if you hear 1981, do you see those small tables? jostled round by young sophisticates, and here, one northern bush kid, easy tan of metis (years before capital M and definitions that don’t matter in the shimmer of the music). This girl is 16, down in The City to visit her sister…

Spirit Mothering

  I was 23 when I met my spirit mother. I’d buried my father and my older brother, gone to university, gotten put on probation, answered an ad that seemed the answer to my prayer for something meaningful to do with that year, some path that mattered. The path led to Mexico, to a teaching…

Leash and Carriage

yesterday in sherwood park, our rough hewn hounds pound past cossetted furbabies, jacketed and lifted from the snow/ice/salt when their tender paws grow weary their humans wheel them home in strollers they chuckle wryly, we burl on, both sides too refined to strain at judgment’s leash.   today on avenue of nations, i spy another…

Gone to Starlight

She is gone from this place, another great woman. We loved her, as one loves a whirlwind. Lifted now into the sky realms, her path remains in our hearts, leads on into wilderness. There is so much more to say, but for now, farewell and love to the incomparable Elke Blodgett

Keep on Dancing

Today, I’m watching this film: Dancing Around the Table My aim was just to show my kid her grandpa, there among the indigenous delegations; but of course, start watching, and it is remarkably clear that, despite what the champions of derivative, tragedy porn works like ‘Secret Path’ would have us believe, the truth has been…

O Canada: Our Home, and Native Land

Not that we haven’t got Indigenous language versions, made by Indigenous language speakers. That’s remarkable, really, considering how the government made it policy to try to exterminate our languages. My Ojibwe tongue was severed in my father’s generation. That those who have kept our languages love this country in spite of it all, enough to put into those the anthem of the country that engendered such a history of abuse against our families, frankly moves me to tears.

This level of love and enduring belief in the power of making a home here for all comers should be lifted up as one of the world’s great examples of humanity.