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Irkar Beljaars Sep 2018
You’re the face of the angry parent, cutting me down with your words.
The face of the bullies waiting in the school yard to share their insecurities with me.

You’re the face of the neighbor, the best friend, the preacher, the teacher, the face of the men who ***** me.

You’re the face of the police officer, the judge, the politician. Those who would rather blame the victim than deal with violence so many of us face on a daily basis.

You’re the face of the vanishing lover and the absentee father, your the face in the bathroom mirror that I can’t wipe away.

You’re the faces that I carry with me everyday. You remind me that I’m still here, that you did not break me. The face that I wear may be cracked and worn but it is one of dignity, strength and defiance.

The face is me
Irkar Beljaars Apr 2018
From the moment you are born there is someone out there ready to take you, they see you as more of a commodity than a person. They created laws so they could legally destroy you. You are left with soulless men and women who reached into your soul to try and turn you into one of them.

Their stinging words that come from the end of a switch, beating, ****** their ideology into your soul. Punishments come when you try to be yourself and as the years go by you slowly begin to disappear. And when they are done with you they toss you aside, leaving you with a lifetime of scars that never truly heal.

Generations of souls with no place to go, ending up on the streets of broken glass and towers of steel, drinking poison to dull the pain. You were taught to hate yourself by, taught to hate your people, your way of life. You continue to walk the path of broken glass and spent needles looking for your next release from the pain.

You want to give up, but you can’t for that goes against their beliefs. You try and escape with a pocket full of memories and a faint hope that the Creator is watching. You meet more lost souls on your journey all seeking to be healed. Together you begin to share stories something which is forbidden but you do it anyway. You soon discover that you are not alone and through these shared stories you have found a new family and a way to heal.

Your new found family invite you to sweat, as the heat rises your memories start to return. You share your story of the soul takers, the empty ones, the aliens who violated your world. As the heat increases, the songs get louder. Loud enough for the Great Spirit to reach down and heal you. For the first time in many years you see your mother, your family all your relations.

Like the tears flowing down your face so do the memories return to your soul, piecing you back together like a broken mirror. And though cracks remain they are there to remind you that you have lived. The Great Spirit leaves one parting lesson, go out she says, go out and find my children, bring them to the sweat , save as many as you can.

So you return to the streets of broken glass and towers of steel. You slowly bring your brothers and sisters to the sweat and together you begin to teach our youth to work together, to heal the land and it’s people. So future generations can grow into their destinies.
Inspired by the many survivors of Canada's Residential Schools
Irkar Beljaars Apr 2018
Grow

I am a man who has made  
mistakes, I have fallen down many
times but I get up. I continue to grow.

You, want to remember me for who
I was not for who I am. You demean me,
you see what you want to see.

I challenge myself. I continue to grow.

You tell stories about me. You try to hurt me.

I fall in love. I continue to grow.

You hate her. You call her a *****.

Together we grow, our love becomes
stronger.

You try to break us up.
You fail.

We build our lives together,
our love creates one more.

Your hatred begins to consume you, you’re
left bitter and cold.

Our love forgives your hate.

Your hate begins to fade, becoming a
distant memory.

Our love continues.
Irkar Beljaars Apr 2018
You were born only to be abandoned. You grew up with the unwanted, herded like cattle by strangers in white collars. People passing you by like yesterday’s news.

Abuse was a daily issue, something to be expected and something that happened often. You would carry the sting of their violations like scar on your soul. But you wouldn’t let it corrupt you.

You found love with a man who created troubled landscapes, who gave you two children. And when you began to thrive that man who created those landscapes walked away.

He left you behind with two mouths to feed. You found a strength you never knew you had. And when another bout with love gave you one more you still stood tall.

The life you created came out in your art. You were a teacher, you taught us about our traditions, our people.  Your stories were so popular that children from different lands began to benefit from hearing about our history and ancestors.

Then one day in May, you went to sleep, you joined our ancestors in the spirit world. People from all over who were touched by you shared their stories but we were the ones left to pick up the pieces.

Now 25 years later, we thrive. Like you taught us, we continued the story. We see you every day in the smiles and laughter of your grandchildren. You taught us to grow, to be ourselves and because of that you will never be truly gone.
Irkar Beljaars Apr 2018
I see them on the screen, they lie to me, pretend to want me. They twist me into something I’m not and teach me all the wrong things.

They tell me how to love, tell me that it’s okay. I want to stop but I can’t, they taunt me in my dreams and are there when I wake and go to sleep.

I know that this is not right, that I need to escape. I fight to disconnect  to log out, to be free.

I want, I need someone real. I want to feel the goose bumps rise as I caress them.  I let their scent intoxicate me, arouse me. Their touch bringing me back to life.

Steamy windows created by the heat of our souls embrace. Drops of sweat mingle like lovers dancing to the sounds of heart beats coming together. Losing each other in ecstasy as we explode and colapse in a molten embrace.

Your eyes speak to my soul, asking me for more. As I kiss your trembling lips with their taste like a drug. Our bodies connect once more, I hear you gasp as you open yourself up to me. The smile, anticipating a river of ecstasy flowing over us, drowning us in love once more.
Irkar Beljaars Apr 2018
I have feared many things as I walked through the trees that lay in the shadows of my life. I have felt the stings of their violations. Tasted the blood of my many broken hearts, been broken and rebuilt.

Enemies, frenemies, friends. They all wear the same mask, some walk with me, some work against me but few help me. I was born in anger, grew up in hatred and lived in tears. A smile hides the pain and loneliness.

The sun begins to rise, I see the light through the trees of this forest I walk. My scars slowly begin to heal, my heart begins to wake. The hatred and pain start to fade and as I wipe away the tears new memories begin to grow.

As I emerge from the forest the sun, so bright that at first that I shy away from its gaze. But then it dawns on me, this is what the journey is all about.
My scars begin to disappear my, heart once again begins to fill me with warmth. My life is healing, I am growing, I am free.
Irkar Beljaars Mar 2018
How many of us have to to die, go missing, be ***** before justice listens? The blood our people have spilled have wet the ground for centuries. Our children have been stolen, our families shattered and our land taken all due to the arrogance of white men.

To this day our people have been made to live in fear, a fear that has been driven, beaten, shot, stabbed and ***** into our very bodies. In the last 500 years our identities have been bombarded by men who are called pillars of our history. Their statues litter the land, a reminder of the atrocities they committed and fawned over by their ancestors.

The schools tried to erase us, the men with white collars, callous hearts and empty souls, the sting of their violations like ripples in a pool lasting generations. They taught hate in schools, they created Gerald Stanley and Raymond Cormier and thousands like them. They created ignorance that we feel even today.

Our two faced politicians who shed tears, kiss babies and at the same time deny our children basic human rights. Their tears buying our votes with empty promises and back room deals, selling away our children, our land and our souls.

We never forgot, the generations of genocide would not let us. “A good Indian is a dead Indian” the man on the radio says, his words are like the stones thrown at women, children and elders during the Crisis. The violence we experienced that day was just another chapter in the long history of massacres, land theft, stolen children and degradation.

The change that our two faced politicians talk about is the trickle down economics of social change, I say trickle down because like every other promise it doesn’t exist. I grow tired of the fight but I know that we must continue. We are the symbol of the voice yet to be born. The words of our elders continue to lead us, guide us like they always have on the path towards growth.

We must continue to educate and fight the ignorance that permeates every corner of our society. It’s the idea that must be destroyed, the idea of white supremacy which has plagued our land for centuries. Growth cannot happen without truth and that cannot happen without honesty. To have true honesty our society will have to look in the mirror and acknowledge that of which most of them cannot, that hate exists.

We must acknowledge that white supremacy helped Gerald Stanley and Raymond Cormier commit and get away with their horrific crimes. Change will only happen when we no longer allow fear to hold us back, to keep our mouths shut. Change will happen when we look at each other as equals and help one another to heal, to grow and to teach.

We are not defined by a stereotype, we are not the alcoholic, the drug addict, the *** worker, or the homeless person. We are teachers, doctors, social workers, lawyers and Chiefs. We are actors, writers, poets, singers and Djs. But most importantly we are nations of people, people that have been the stewards of this land for a millennia.

We are people who refuse to be victims, we refuse to have child services take our children away from their mother’s breast. We refuse to be silent when our sisters go missing and are murdered and we refuse to believe that the police are doing everything they can.

We will not stay silent when the media places blame on the Coltons and Tina’s over the world, this victim blaming must stop. The white patriarchy cannot continue to own our future. We as Indigenous peoples will take back our story and we will be the ones to write the next chapter.

A chapter where our sisters do not go missing, where our youth have a future, and a chapter where our communities are thriving. I refuse to accept despair and pain, I’d rather believe in hope, growth and love. That is how we create change. When remembering the words of my late mother, a closed fist is a closed mind, while an open hand reveals an open heart.

Change is a beautiful thing, we are the masters of our own future. We will bring down the walls that divide us and together bring the change this land sorely needs.
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