she is woman,
giver of life
custodian of verses that
offer strawberries
to the shrinking landscape
of her womanhood
she was a body
of land
her wound,
a world
split
wide
open
by the excavation
of the sacred ground
beneath her feet
she is what becomes
of broken
totem poles and railway tracks
witness, i am
to
stolen
sisters
in towns that sleep
at daybreak
a red dress,
lynched and
hung
in the arms of
oak wood branches
the cotton fabric
of her frame
hugged by the wind
next of kin
fall heir
to the fires left
behind
and calls to justice
abandoned,
decay into cinder
and dust
folding starlight and lullabies
of salvation
into rib cages
that house guts of
strength
and the resilience
of the
departed
she is remembered for
being strong
when all she’s ever wanted
to be is
soft
let her be soft.
– dedicated to missing and murder indigenous women and girls and their loved ones
lh
may 2022
