Photo by Britney Kornel.


The legacies and stories that have been passed through our rich history have been kept by the mothers of the Earth. The soil beneath our feet was to be cherished, being kind to the plants was customary. These practices are seemingly being lost as we continue into the future. Where have our teachings gone and where will they go? She’s disappeared into the dark corners, where she’s been told all her life to stay. Never opening up, and when she does: treated as prey. Call her Pocahontas, it’s a compliment. Right? Only to the ignorant eye we are pressured to become the man’s idea of romance. When we are finally compressed into the small, small box called a Squaw. Beaten, Marginalized, called only to serve a Man’s inner peace. The peace that has destroyed entire nations, has thrust genocide across the land, the peace to which we’ve lost thousands of Men and Women, just because of the label that is placed upon them: “Indian.”

It’s a good day to be Indigenous, they’ve said. When is that day? Today is the day we smudge, pray, laugh and place the pulse on the drums. Let us not hide underneath our quilts, for we must smile and dance in the sun. We are gifted protection and love by our Mother Nature. Why has she let our human desires destroy her as she continues to nurture? “Go back to where you came from!” a young Portuguese man says to me, on my homeland. When will they learn that we need her to eat, travel and bathe in her warm rays of sunshine? This is all of our homes, must we not fight and try to conquer. To become one again, the circle in which we once lived, we must bind into the layers of the earth and sun. Grow from the ashes and bones that have tormented souls. Sprout against the tide of discrimination that has plagued our once great nation. When will America be truly Great again? The answers lie in the wrinkles of time, we must learn from our Fascism that spreads across the minds and lines of telephones and news crimes.

The seemingly endless walls of dark times vanish and hide away to the back of our minds. When will it be our time for justice and solstice? She needs her Mother, but the forceful torture needs her more. They continue to breed, to the next, to the next. It’s happening right now. The small child with bright eyes looks to the world of vanishing truths and lies. If only we could go back, to Our Land. The Land which we lived and breathed for so many years is now plagued with the scent of empty bottles of beer.

Our anger is based on love, not war or hate. We just want to live as we did, so many times before. The Education is hanging onto a string. Mothers need their homes back; to teach, and to release the blocked flow from Winter to Spring. “A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then it is finished no matter how brave its warriors or how strong their weapons” (Cheyenne saying). The soul of our sisters are here and alive. We need to rise up and realize our own power, speak from our eyes and push through the lies that have compiled so many knots and ties. There is love everywhere, we are just too shy to hug, kiss and be free. The only way to be free and to live in peace and harmony is to Love the Land on which you live, retreat to the forests, far and near. Be kind to your neighbours, read and be true to you; for it is you who is the one who allows the fear.

 


Victoria N Inglis is an intuitive young Indigenous person. They are of Cree and Dene descent. They make a variety of art based on their own perspectives and beliefs about justice. Many thoughts orbit their eyes and mind as they release select work from their mind, to not drain or fall behind.

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