Disclaimer-
This poem regards the murders, mistreatment and discrimination of indigenous children in residential schools across Canada. This part includes both french and english versions of the poem. This poem is from my perspective, living in Canada in a British and Indigenous Canadian family, and was created to recognise, reconciliate and respect the indigenous communities across Canada.
----------------------------------------------------
I didn't quite comprehend
at the time,
what the delicate drawings of
feathers,
basking in the
orange backgrounds
of flags
hung around the library and
the beige bricks in the
hallways
meant;
all i remember
is the horror i felt
when we learned,
sat in a broken circle on our
second grade carpet,
the murky glow
of the late september sky
illuminating the room,
why we wear orange on a
special day.
a special day
made to remember the way
that children were tortured,
stolen,
and killed
for no reason but
their 'different' race,
buried in catholic graves
under playground grass
where not a single child played.
Where hair was cut short,
to be uniform-
every child
unidentifyable,
all the same way;
to be western,
and white.
using fright
to manipulate out
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Short poetry ♡
PoetryRandom poetry that i've written over the years that have not been granted a place. Some may be disturbing, sad, lovely. I'm not sure what i will find in my old poetry notebooks, or what I will continue to write. (Also check out one of my other stori...
