I'm disconnected from the land-- from who I am, where I am from, who I want to be.
I spend most of my days in buildings, concrete, subways, buses and cars.
I feel a tingling down my spine to my feet, but that feeling is abruptly stopped by the rubber on my shoe soles.
When I close my eyes, I can smell the trees with each inhale. I can imagine the water that used to flow beneath the pavement.
My ancestors must have travelled these waterways, that are now covered. My papa used to tell me that the water listens, the water knows...
she hears us.
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The Journey: Friday Nights at the Museum
PoetryAs the ROM Youth Cabinet, we completed our Wattpad writings with the support of Indigenous community members: Embodied Storyteller Monique Mojica; Artistic Director of Chocolate Woman Collective from the Kuna and Rappahannock Nations, Anishinaabeg K...
