Dedication to the Murdered & Missing Women
Sometimes we hoped,
sometimes we cried … most times
we question how and why —
so many sisters had to die; by rope,
razor, drugs or rye — or M.I.A.
under Picton’s sky.
We tip the bottle to respect and grieve
the women who sought a brief reprieve …
from the hustle and struggle on Hastings Street.
Society quickly forgot their faces …
simply for belonging to other races —
designated by the police as cold cases.
But these women left an indelible mark
in the depths of their loved ones’ hearts
broken angels shining in the dark …
We tip the bottle to respect and grieve —
May our sisters’ spirits rest in peace.
Spend years behind walls the white man built,
indefinite solitary makes it hard to feel Guilt —
a form of Residential School, ancestors blood spilled.
Searching, fasting … praying to find
a shred of humanity, freedom with no binds —
lift the veil of Revenge that renders me blind.
Petition the System for a sweat, a vision…
to release the negativity in my internal prison –
Where intentions and goals are tainted crimson.
Pledged faith, Revolutionary – convict Alliance;
left to endure, to stagnate in silence –
Mind and spirit plagued by violence.
Fighting a war dating back to Crazy Horse,
too ignorant to comprehend the System is the Source
of Revenge, Ruminating … my lack of Remorse.
Spend years behind walls my heart has built,
feel the lifeline wither when my blood is spilled.