City Offerings: a poem

when the wind blows from north to south
i wish for better words to line my mouth

to keep the birds flying, the fish swimming
for Anishnaabek everywhere to keep winning

for semaa to keep growing and new leaders to keep showing
their faces to the world, and changing the world with their knowing

and as i lay down my offerings in the city, i know that somewhere
my words, these words, are being felt in the crispy, cool air

in the places between the grass and the cement,
these are places that my ancestors also went

so when i see the old man walking by, wondering why
i’m lying tobacco there, down by the trees side

and the church there with its cross so close
it’s there i find that i love the land the most

because it’s away, in the same way that i am
almost awake and in a fierce way, so femme

together, i think, we’ll be okay
even if it’s only small words that i say
even if the sun keeps rising everyday

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