Poem: The Androgynous Man in Brown Pants, Part 3

Urban living/freeways/repulse/recluse

She has combed the streets with her hands,
Found absolutely nothing,
Strangers peered into her heart from alleyways and buildings,
She ran away,
Flight,

The criteria was distraction,
A solution and potion made for delusion,
Diluting the prospects of the soul for elevation,

The majority culture consciousness was retrospective,
But numbing at the same time,

Decolonization for real/very lonely chapter as she awaits the sunrise of the soul of her people,

The churches need not exist on the land,
Symbols of power and might,
Symbols of abuse and silence,

Destroying infallibility of patriarchal structures,
Even the traditional teachings have been distorted,

A man who is female/a male who is a woman,

He became lonely as the world was not deep and meaningful,
Many had ignored his loneliness because he appeared in a female body,
He had tossed the checklist of commitments based on gender roles into the fire,

Eating disorder recovered/recovery/still yet burdened with mixed messages,

The body is a deception to the truth,
The love of the soul is found in the depths,

Healing lungs/we have a right to breath/to fully heal,

Breathing now,
We free up these old constraints,
More flight but not fighting now,

The androgynous man in brown pants has merged with he/she and she/he,
The androgynous man in brown pants is now complete.

- - - - - - - - - -

Please see the original - The Androgynous Man in Brown Pants
Please see the next one too -- The Androgynous Man in Brown Pants, Part 2

Poem: Colonization

Right now colonization has battered a woman,
Colonization has forced relocation of the Indigenous mind to bottle,
Casino only employer around this place,

Right now colonization has neglected a child,
Cold-shaking-fear but smiling in front of a heater,
Dim light flickering,

Right now colonization has made you feel like a patriot or a brave,
And she is sitting in a closet with cut arms,
Hungry and ignored,
Because Native women can't have eating disorders,

Right now colonization is dividing my being,
My legs are Anishinaabe,
My hands are French,
Compartmentalization makes me run away,
Hiding identity in shame,

Right now colonization has discriminated a Two-Spirit,
A "traditional healer," laughs in this Two-Spirit's face,
This Two-Spirit has no community resources,
The Two-Spirit was a revered community resource,

Right now colonization has headed up your tribal government structure,
The epidemics all around have you ignore domestic violence,
Sex trafficking,
Addiction,
And your colonized Christ is judging the actions of many,

Right now colonization is not breaking news on the news,
There is no Native news on the news,

Right now colonization has ran out of tissues,
Tears,
Surviving everyday discrimination,
Heartbreak syndrome,
Ghost sickness is enough for 500 plus years,

Right now 97.7% of the land is occupied,
We get 0.3 % of the land,

How do you map "de-colonization," when there is very little room for us?

Poem: 0.6% of the Population

Cultural appropriation,
Denial,
Seek,
Toil,
Damaging solutions,
That,
In the occupied "State of Michigan,"
Is,
Only,
0.6% of the population,
Heartsick,
Heart sorrow,
If we fall over,
Fall out,
Topple onto curbs,
My Polish friend,
Supported my culture,
Supported me,
As much as he could,
Thank you for being strong,
For me,
When the dominant culture was beating me up,
Here I am in the midst of so much excess,
In my friends Ranger,
Passing over freeways,
Broken pavement,
Toss the sadness out the window,
It hits the pavement,
Bounces back,
He asks me if I am okay,
I don't remember,
0.6% of the population,
Invisible distress,
Invisible racism,
Cultural appropriation makes me vomit,
At 3:57 am,
When I thought I was being rebellious,
Trying to find safety in unsafe spaces,
At 3:57 am.

Author's note

The title of this poem was inspired by the fact that the Native American population in the "State of Michigan," is so low that it is depressing. Last I checked the Michigan Native American population is 0.6% but as of as of 2011 we are 0.7% of the population, according to the US Census.  0.1 is a big difference. No we are still an invisible minority, ignored and unseen in this state. I get tired of telling people that I am Ojibway/Anishinaabe and explaining to them where this tribe is from.  Northern Michigan is a lot better than Southern Michigan in terms of this.  This is because the tribes have a visible presence up here.

Poem: Brown Metal Garbage Can

Sometimes we can only do so much,
That metal garbage can,
In the middle of my dorm room,
In Wisconsin,

Sin,
Harboring fate,
Wait,
I'm breathing,
But I check my pulse,
It beats,

The time warp I was in,
Distant of some past,
Heaviness of generational wounds,
Unknown,

Unknown force,
Forced upon me,
It was dark,
An uncomprehending force,

While I lay in my bed,
Pick at my thighs,
My skin turns red,
Because I pinch my skin,
The redness,
Pain inside,
Outside,

While I lay in my bed,
The springs hurt my hips,
Hurt my hips,

I didn't want food,
I ached for something in my heart,
A longing that brought me back through the darkness,
Through a long dark night,

Stenches,
Old smells,
Old energy,
I had to barrel through,

That day when I realized my eating disorder had a grip on me,
I still stood on my eating disorder pedestal,
While demons whispered into my ear,
About how I could hurt myself more,
When really the demons were my souls wounds,
Pain I ran from,
Ran from fast,

Now my hands grip my thighs again,
I lay in the bed,
White walls,
Window to the outside,
Students outside,
I feel so isolated,
So alone,

My legs itch,
Extreme hyperactivity,
Due to nutritional deficiencies,
Chemical imbalances,
Music is dark,
Darkness,

I lift myself from the bed,
Leave boldly,
Leave fiercely,
I bound across the campus,
My mind,
My body,
My spirit,
Disjointed,

Somehow the fine precision of my soul,
The yearning to heal beneath the rubble,
I make my way,
Not perfectly,
I wanted to forget the brown metal garbage can,

Purification,
Collecting pieces of my soul,
To be whole.

Poem: My Coach, I Hope You Are Well

My coach,
I heard her peeing in the bathroom,
She was in the stall for awhile,
I was listening,

She was the only one to tell me,
That she had an eating disorder,
She ran competitively at a NCAA division 1 university,
I felt sad when she told me,

I was always very body positive,
In my teens,
And when she told me,
My heart went out to her,

She had to leave the university,
Retire from running,
Because she was ill,
The web of the eating disorder made its way around her,

She was a good Michigan high school runner too,
I remember seeing her name in the papers,
Someone I admired from a distance,
Literally,

The metal bathroom stall doors,
Cold tile,
She was in the stall a long time,
I knew why,

Drink lots of water,
Before the banquet dinner,
So she didn't have to eat,
She was not recovered,

I later ended up in her shoes,
Fast,
People wanted to catch me,
Except the eating disorder caught me,

I kept in touch with her,
Later I told her I battled an eating disorder,
She knew how collegiate athletics puts girls through the ringer,
To have them come out thin,

It did that to me too,
Cold,
Cold rooms,
I am shaking,

I understand now,
I hope you are well,
My coach.