You have me on a string.
Like a leaf caught in a stream
You drag me along
You are my song
An aria I sing
You have me on a string.

I swear he’s an angel.
His wings bring him
down to Earth slowly.
They spread out,
reaching across the blue sky.
His white feathers create
the silver lining on the horizon.

What makes a tragedy?
A hero in the wrong story
A child in the wrong household
A man in the wrong marriage
A woman in the wrong family

My handwriting is poor,
but the words I have to say
are rich with meaning and care.

Loud head. Silent mouth.
Loud thoughts. Empty words.
Loud pain.
Screaming, deafening pain.
Numbness.

Hard to break,
Changes your brain,
Makes you dependent,
Taking away your independence.
Whether it be a drink,
Vape or cigarette,
Or even a cellular device,
You can’t bear to let charge at night.
It’s destroying you,
I’ve seen it,
My uncle thought it was safe,
It killed him.
Don’t be the one who gets stuck,
In all the harmful muck,
But if you do,
You,
Can overcome.

When someone dies,
Reality seems to slow to a halt.
Nothing makes any sense anymore,
And everything goes wrong.
They say there are five different stages,
Anger, denial, depression, bargaining, and acceptance.
Everyone feels it differently,
There’s not a special order to the pain.
Like a tidal wave,
It keeps knocking you down,
To the ground,
You fear you may drown,
And there’s no one around.
It never goes away,
Acceptance isn’t grief’s end,
Just a way,
To compartmentalize the pain,
Before it drowns you again.

Less than thirty years ago,
The last residential school closed.
I sit in the shelter cafeteria
And snack on a gift of bannock bread
While studying malnutrition, sutures, and
Average healing time for wounds.

I walk the middle line,
Open to hearing both sides.
Things are rarely black and white,
That’s something you’ll find.
There’s always nuance,
Though people may deny,
Open your mind,
And realize,
That perhaps you aren’t always right.
So many petty fights,
For “rights”
Stirring up so much strife,
For what?
Why can’t we just live life?
I try,
To be open minded,
And walk the middle line.
Always scouring the desert for nuance,
And nuance I always find.