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I wrote a lot of poetry as a teenager but I rarely shared it with anyone. I didn't take it seriously, it was just what I did to release some of the darkness. I wasn't an artist, I wasn't a creative, I wasn't a poet. I was just a rez girl trying to make sense of this world. Trying to understand why being native made me a target for prejudice and labels. I was already so many things before I even opened my mouth. I kept it closed a lot.

I came back to poetry in recent years. I began rebuilding a relationship with this art form. It's where I can weave together my experiences, my culture and teachings, my spirituality, my curiosity, and my love of words. Reacquainting with poetry has meant reacquainting with my creative self. I think I left her behind for a while. I've missed her.

I hope you enjoy, feel inspired, connect with my words or with me...get something from the poems I share here.

Poetry: Work


The returned earth of untold ancestors

The blood and clay of our Mother

I am, you are, we are

 The scattered stars that gaze upon us

The fair counsel of our Grandmother

I am, you are, we are

The rapid passage of guiding waters

The cleansing roar of our Grandfathers

I am, you are, we are

The soft moan of gentle breath

The fierce bellow of the biting gale

I am, you are, we are

The propitious light of days anew

The ceaseless fervor of brotherly love

I am, you are, we are

The enlightened myth and the trying truth

The disorderly entanglement of abundant story

I am, you are, we are

The carnal

The celestial

We are

Poetry: Text


Earnest in her call to connect
Excitement builds, she rushes in
Nestles close and pulls back gently
Sweeping caress, joyful retreat
Body full she spreads her love
Return, repeat, receive, reward
Ceaseless act, a demonstration
Of a love unconditional
Spirits bonded of nature’s will
All life shall be witness to her
Lead followed to peace abound

Poetry: Image


It’s taking too long for me to find me

Deep in the timber behind this old tree

The one that weeps, he guards my soul

Says, “the world has forgotten your sacred role”

Even here, I hear the babies’ soundless cries

In the night as they want for a new sunrise

Even here, I hear the chill of a mother’s wail

Turned to shell as she walks a nowhere trail

That tree holds secrets, too many to repeat

The limbs they fall heavy, hang to touch my feet

Even here, I hear choke of child’s buried heartbreak

Dirt shoveled on with not a mark or a stake

Even here, I hear the staunch of a defender’s brave lead

Martyred and jailed for tyrants’ profit and greed

Joints become feeble, I brace for the fall

He begs, no, despite the weight you stand tall

Even here, I hear the snuff of a sister’s last ember

Missing and murdered for her kin to remember

Even here, I hear the tears on the broken asphalt

Disappearing with her, only remnants of salt

Stand on those stories, on the truth in the soil

Be a voice, be a fist that brings the cycles to foil

Even here, I hear the end of my brother’s short story

Institutions played their part and they’re not even sorry

Even here, I hear currents of others who seek solace

No more, rise up, we are not what they call us

The fire is burning, fanned by sacred winds

I will no longer suffer for the affliction of THEIR sins

Even here, I hear the chords of old native tongue

Prose of times bygone still live here among

Even here, I hear the shimmer of waters blessed

Still flowing of love of ones journeyed west

Take care in your steps it is best to go slow

You cannot stay here where life does not grow

Even here, I hear the prayer of those once beheld

Sung like a lullaby softly rising from the well

Even here, I hear the chants of the watchful star

The ancestors reminding me who I am from afar

Seek the survivors, the spirit that breathes on

Beyond odds it still carries our people along

Even here, I hear the songs of generations ago

Precious vibrations from sole to soul flow

Even here, I hear hope wake us from the numb

Joyous bustles nodding to the beat of the drum

Make way to the clearing, they wait for me there

For me to find me, I finally know where

Poetry: Text


Spoke at


br/ok/en words

Choke on


LURID cues

Strike off


s-u-m-m-o-n-e-d calm

Fall out





Tragic wrong


Poetry: Quote


Standing stone, she coolly gestures
No fear, see, she welcomes the moss
Trust, for a final time, believe
The path it winds but does not roll
The way unbound, absent the fool
All but a stranger, out of sight
Stiffens, still the gaze is held soft
Truths unsaid, spill from guarded lips
Cheek pressed firm against the torso
I beg his remembrance, he must
The willow weeps, relief cleanses
Grateful for the silence that speaks
Song floods the air, willow sways
Ascend, cradle upon his bough
Pacified, cycles are made still
Gliding on ribbons of the gale
Ferried into the place between
The blood that heals, it brings the calm
It chokes and steals the tired breath
Unwanted whisper touches light
“In the soils and in the seeds
Give to it life, duty will free”
Grandmother please! Do you hear it?
The stars are chanting lullabies
The constellation calls my name
Light thrusts, compelled to view the east
“Return, the season is in change”
Serpent summoned to bring me home

Poetry: Text


The blanket now bathes, glides across grey stone
Awakening more life than the present one alone
The rock holds old song, still eager to share
Ancient fire ash, the residue of aged prayer
Hazy vibration, ode of heartbeat or drum?
Listen intently, there is more yet to come
Copper toned footprints in pattern of dance
The clay carries her duty of fond remembrance
Of travelers and dwellers long into the past
Buried and treasured, the sacred shall last
Encoded in memory of the sediment and soil
Waters entrusted to care for hallowed spoil
The bluffs release vignettes of no reason or rhyme
Ancient legends eroded and distorted by time
Colliding and bumping, they come with such haste
Growing and flowing, enjoying the chase
She gathers them, cradles them, guides them along
Perhaps these old verses will return into song
Now at the mouth, she releases the choir
A coming together of truth, love, and desire
The creek slows her pace, rests in warmth of the sun

Until the next cycle of shedding’s begun

Poetry: Text


In commemoration of the children who did not come home

I wrote this in the days that followed the news of the 215 unmarked graves uncovered at the Kamloops Residential School site. I didn't know what to do with the surge of emotion that I felt so I just started writing. My poem is installed at the Awen Gathering Circle at Collingwood's waterfront.

Poetry: Welcome
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