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Truth & Wreck
By Joanne Arnott
Joanne Arnott is a Métis/mixed-blood writer and arts activist living in Coast Salish territories, based on an island in the mouth of the Sto:lo River (Richmond, BC). She has lived in the lower mainland for thirty-five of her fifty-two years. Mother to five sons and one daughter, all born at home, she is a poet, essayist, activist, mentor and blogger. A founding member of Aboriginal Writers Collective West Coast, Joanne facilitated Unlearning Racism workshops for many years, and continues to apply peer counselling and storytelling strategies in her work in the literary arts. She has volunteered with The Writers Union of Canada (National Council 2009–2010), and currently is a member of the Author’s Advisory Group of The Writers Trust of Canada. She has published seven books, all well reviewed, with Wiles of Girlhood (Press Gang, 1991) winning the Gerald Lampert award. Her newest poetry title is A Night for the Lady (Ronsdale, 2013).
A poem of reconciliation, written in honour of Chief Robert Joseph,
And ending with the words of four wise elders
I have a multiplicity of stories
within me
some are the bones of me
some are the blood
some are the meat of me
some are the stagnant pools of qi
some are the resuscitation of being
rising up
I feel a cool wind blowing through
when I hear the truth
the truth about who is dying from neglect
who is lied about, who is suppressed
who is showcased and honoured and no, wait, listen—
who is allowed a natural life
who is interfered with, who is taken
rising up
a cool wave of truth flowing through
aligning the bones and the meat of my stories
cousins disappearing from the left hand
new cousins arriving on the right hand
who is interfered with
who is paid to raise whose children, how
indigenous families became outlawed
how settler economies feed upon me
the cool truth has a hot heart
the cool truth has a sober word for you
the cool truth is a mind-blowing instrument
blowing through the dead leaves of the fallen
blowing away the grit of snow under which
the stories were buried, frozen
taking up a shovel
for redemption
our land is in a state of productive confusion
the chaos
the liberation of stories
shining the light of the unspoken to re-inflect
all that was said to the children
all that was said and the great unsaid
histories
commingling
a mammoth nerve complex evolving
new and old stories together
your stories with my stories
no longer compelled to choose between or to
go mad trying
the dams are weakening,
let them fall
the wreck of the self-deceptive nation
struggling toward transformation, we are
coming into being
writing a new song of wholesome
on the stinking bones of our
undefended regret
heat of transformative anger shed
the colonial project unmasked, interrupted
grace notes
glimmering
with passion
with innocence
Rita Joe: I lost my talk
Chief Robert Joseph: Am I a human being?
Jane Kwatleemat Marston: Listen to the trees talk
Chief Dan George: Like the thunderbird of old, I shall rise again
out of the sea
F T I YT