Tag Archives: first nations

I am Grateful

I am grateful for the privilege that lets me live on Vancouver Island

I am grateful to be a visitor on the traditional lands of the Lek’wungen People

I am grateful for the freedom to walk on the beach at dusk in safety

I am grateful for being a white male

in a world of violence towards women

I thank the creator for all the gifts I share

I thank the creator for all of you

I’m grateful

for the privilege of sharing

this moment

this now

with you

 

David Trudel © 2014

 

 

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bad faith

bad faith has led to this place

the transept holds a draped table

where lawyers pulpit

rights, titles and historical truths

dressed in split hairs

ritualistic applause marks each voice

concepts like terra nullius  lie uncovered

offered up like original sin by unholy courts

whose collective guilt bleeds

as red as maple leaves on white fields

empty spaces left uncoloured

unoccupied by truth

condemned by greed to be torn away

from those who can’t exist

in this place

where faith has been rocked

by fraud and lies

culture quarried and stripped

left for dead

still, there are heartbeats

that call like drums

ascending

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2014

 

 

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Soft As

in my realm

dreams are real

there are no walls

they bleed

into each other

dripping

like they do

as soft as

pianissimo

whispered into your ear

while I forget

to wake up

while I forget

to remember

while I forget

what it was

that stopped me

from continuing

on

even though

there are walls

defenses

and a window

into infinity

 

David Trudel     ©   2013

 

 

 

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Song From The Big House

The scent of woodsmoke clings to me

Like a spirit not ready to let go of this world

Not from fear but out of love

Holding on to memories that reverberate

To the beat of the round drum

And the stamp of bare feet on a dirt floor

In a place that echoes the past into the present

Where dances are sacramental offerings

Shared with ghosts who linger in the dust

Raised by each footfall

Even though we applaud we know this isn’t a performance

But a moment to let spirits intermingle

Bathed in smoke that permeates our souls

Dusted with earth that has witnessed degradation and despair

Seen attempts at genocide collide with patient persistence

Until old songs are given new voice

And old voices are heard with new understanding

To the beat of ancestral hearts witnessing truth

In the flicker of flames that never died out

That burn on into the tomorrow of today

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Ida Nomore

600373_10151333157542036_2060481016_nI look into your eyes and see determination

I see courage born of oppression

Of knowing that the worst is only more of the same

And since you’ve taken enough shit for a generation

It’s not exactly child’s play

But it ain’t as bad as giving in

There are no more excuses

No more retreats

When so many backs are walled

A line forms

And damn it

You say, you know what?

Fuck you assholes

If you want to play that way

I’ll take you on

I’ll set the stage

On the granite steps of your monumental edifice

With a lawn chair

A few signs

And time

 

 

David Trudel   © 2013

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Eagle

It came into view through the last wisps of fog

Then disappeared and must have wheeled

Because now it’s drifting obliquely and giving us the eye

Before slipping away

Winged blessing

Over this angular space where we share the air

Called by drums and elders

 

Circling, I see unity

Songs of power and healing radiate warmth

A small boy gives me a red felt feather that I pin to my jacket

Everyone is smiling

When the dancing begins the eagle returns

In spirit

The breath of the chanters flies up

Out of the cloistered square into the timeless sky

Reclaiming the echoes that reverberate to longhouses lost

 

Circling, I see pride

Beautiful regalia worn with serious grace

Shared resolve winding through us all

As the drums pull dancers into song hearts

Spirit moves

Smiles fly across the crowd

On eagle feathers

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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Victoria Idle No More

I wear my medicine bundle on this trek

A universe contained around my neck

A flake of the rock that rolled Sisyphus

Midnight warmth of a lover’s kiss

Seven dreams undreamt

A perfect snowflake

 

It gives me strength

 

I join the ragtag muster of this armless army

Whose weapons are but peace and righteous dignity

 

My passion is not as bitter as the cold drizzle

Yet there is enough bitter passion to go around

My settler feet fumble through the rounddance

Her hands fly up like birds to throbbing drumbeats

Songs that pull power up and out of the earth

Through the chests of the chanting elders in button blankets

And spongeyoung apprentices taking up ancient beats

From places whose names flow like poetry

Esquimalt, Gitksan, Ahousaht, Haisla, Songhees, Nisga’a, Qualicum

Songs that reverberate off the closed doors of government

Into the hearts of us all

Feeling the power of these words that connect to the memory of this place

Since displaced but never erased

Original needs no title to be authentic

Now is the time to support authenticity

Of people

Of place

So we come together in this parade of weaponless warriors

Fed by desperation

Sparked by indignation

To simply say that we’ll be idle no more

Because idleness is complicit in oppression

So raise a feather and be

Idle No More

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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