Poem: The Androgynous Man in Brown Pants, Part 4

The androgynous man in brown pants reflected on his days,
As a sexualized female,
Chasing around the darkness of the heart,
Falling down on a bed,
To feel the metal coils in his hips,
The white walls and the silent pulsating sound of generational trauma,
Silent ingested hymns of shame turned inward,
Knives of generational trauma to not eat and not nurture,
So the brown dorm refrigerator and rank smell of past haunts ran the show,

There was a window to exit,
Mumbles of “girls at this school,”
When he in fact was running from himself,
As a man/woman in a female body,

Detroit industrialization toppled onto the androgynous man in brown pants,
No one could understand the union organizer/Indigenous survivance,
Running through their spirit,
Or the land/water integration,
Despite the concrete/urban core white washing and homogenization amnesia,

The assimilation of industrialization,
Freeway consumption plasticity,
The patriarchy is a pandemic of toxicity,
Facing the patriarchy within their body,

Meant hearing sounds that were a torment,
Like old Gothic cathedrals chiming in London,
The iron worker stained by filth and pollution,
Cold feeling hands clenched a piece of bread,
Delirium frazzled nutritional deficiencies,

Coils of factories,
The coils of the disorder,
The root cause of the problem,
Deep within the ancestral soul,
Recovery of feelings and emotions,
Take out by the root to heal,

The androgynous man in brown pants has decolonized within himself,
Herself and their-self,
He has healed the little boy who started a moon and was shamed by patriarchy,
In a parking lot near the meter in downtown pre-gentrified Royal Oak,
She has healed that he hurt her because of societal conditional,
They have transformed deep suffering to real-true love and joy,

The body is not a puritanical patriarchal body,
The body as a healed body,
This is healthy sexuality,
This is health asexuality,
When they choose and decide how they feel,

The androgynous man in brown pants sits near the water,
Near the fire,
Circled by the tall pines,
With ancestral Chiefs,
With the ancestral Grandmothers,
With the ancestral Two-Spirit Diva’s,
Pre-colonization,
And is fully healing.

Poem: Halfway Through the Halfway House

Decolonization is not an academic concept

In a single counseling session,                              
They ask you to heal 500 years of genocide,
Assimilation,
Land loss,
Culture loss,
Internalized patriarchy,
Start with your first memory of violence they say,
You are frozen,

Land

The town arrived,
With racists and all,
The colonizers came,
With white Jesus,
Identity cut across the land,
Infliction's on our skin,
We can always feel these wounds,

Housing

Near the factories,
Closed curtains,
We know what is behind them,
Dim lights shine in one corner of the room,
Illuminated behind the curtain,

We have the pain of generations barreling down on us,
Yet no one will listen to us,

Meanwhile the sound of the factories hum,
There are low vibrations felt throughout the land,
Industrialization is a pulse that keeps us awake,

Halfway through the halfway house,
The yellow paint is dusty,
Ashtrays full of empty cigarette butts of sorrow inhaled,
We have yet to face the emptiness of our addiction,

Meanwhile majority culture goes on without a care of us,
The linoleum flooring is broken and stained in places,
We don’t know what true love is,

You have to “hit bottom,”
Haven’t Native people already hit bottom?
Halfway through the halfway house takes longer,
Still the cuts come from those who don’t want us to be here,

The halfway house is often a spook house,
Filled with the ghosts of our past,
These ghosts are the traumas unresolved,
Appearing and re-appearing,

If you stand halfway in the halfway house,
You’re decolonizing,
This is not a citation in an academic paper,
Please don’t study us,
Please let us heal,

Washing

Halfway through the halfway house,
Blood memory means healing these cuts,
Water can’t rinse the pain enough,
We wash,
We wash,
We wash,

Pouring water to heal,
My eyes fill with tears,
Our ancestor’s tears,
Are they ever enough?

Do you feel the energy between the walls?
The energy between my spirit and yours?
The energy between the damage of patriarchy?
The energy between gender balance in a body?

Halfway through the halfway house,
The house as the body,
The body as the land,

You can sing,
Drum,
Dance,
Will these cuts ever go away?

Poem: Northern Lights

1. Water/Pottery/Ancestors

On the periphery she was penning letters,
To send out in the four directions,
Some sent via the waterways,
Some made into pottery,

Our sisters,
Our girls,
Our two-spirits,
Are like the stars glistening and sparkling,
Guiding and holding us,
Northern lights envelop us,

2.  Boarding Schools/Cracked Mirrors/Soul Fragmentation

Something was left cooking on the stove,
Cracked mirrors of a broken soul,
Obtrusive to feeling emotions,
The soul loss of broken glass,
As it collects on the ground outside of a burning structure,
Attending to nourishment,
Private matters of the heart,
The contents left on the stove are an eruption,

3. Disassociation/Sadness/Recovery

We couldn’t resist the feeling to run away,
As the structures burned,
We had to escape the crisis to crisis,

We’ve been locked in closets,
Hand prints of red paint recorded as memories,
Blood memory can also mean trauma,
To be alive is to feel the memories the ancestors could not,
Ancestral trauma and soul loss screaming through the walls,
Fingerprints have stories of remembering,

Slowly the stitches dissolve,
Through movement,
Song and dance,
Reclaiming means so much to us,

4. Reflections/Ancestors We’ve Seen/Believe

We saw her in the mirror,
She appeared within us,
Through a reflection,

Our hand is up,
Take the hand that wants to honor you,
They are all right here.