Surf Rider (for JW)

A little poem inspired by another Twitter pal’s call for us all to work toward a better world, together. I’ve never met you, Jesse, but I believe we share a love for this world of wonders. I see it, too, sometimes, flashing a fin in the murky waves of this present time; battling the undertow…

For the Master, One Year Gone Onward

on any given day, divinity comes floating down the wind, or through still air reminding dirty seekers in our reek and tattered sensibilities that yes, it is still there. yes, it is still there. Thanks for the songs, Mr. Cohen.

For My Mother

April 17: Nocturne: Tiny Now She is tiny now, my mother and jokes in the morning, when her teeth aren’t in, how she whistles like a little bird. And i want to reach back to the nights when she brought the piglets in laid them in the woodstove oven so tiny, but she believed in…

For the Light Returning: How Not to Freeze

Free Tibet! bang bang Free Tibet!  Their voices and their drums shimmered through the frosty air. They danced past the doors of the Strathcona Farmers’ Market, and i hustled in after my hubby, looking assiduously away from them. I’d recognised one of the dancing drummers, indigenous of mixed ancestry, and an artist -so, not unlike…

1993: To Serve the Healing

it’s 1993 and there is nothing i can think of that matters more than to serve the gods of healing. i take a course sufficient for licensing, but it is in practice that the nature of the illness is revealed. my work is in line with long history of healing through touch. and this is…

1985

It was 1985, and the world was new, blah blah blah we’ve been over this before, in a thousand poems since my father died. but did i tell you? i was in the bathroom when they came for us and so, came back to the waiting room to find them gone, had to find mom…

Ferocious In the Service of Love

“the heart is our lens for seeing” Raffi Cavoukian In this time of rising tides in this time of shattering in this shorn hair time, where darkness pools; let the blessed black of holy night where mystery holds sway by right again become a resting place, guarded by those who walk ferocious in the service of love….

Survivor Poem: Unreconciling

Today, the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation opened in Winnipeg. Here’s a poem for the occasion, fresh from my fingers, inspired by reading about Phil Fontaine’s speech tonight. Survivor Poem: Unreconciling They said they were bringing God, but they brought Demons, who chase us down the generations. We fight with love and light. We…

Because We Are Human

The wind danced with us, the sky offered a stern and vigilant grey face. I walked downtown along 97th (Namao/LaMeiYu as it may yet be renamed), buckled tight into coat and boots, and braced for this grim event. Today, i joined the nationwide protests against the egregious acquittal of the man who murdered Cindy Gladue….

HOW MANY BABIES?

How is it not blazing front page news across Canadian media, that Alberta’s Human Services, who are meant to protect our most vulnerable citizens, have under-reported by some 300%  the deaths of babies in government care over the past several years? How is it that they can say a Public Inquiry would cost too much?…