Haida honour their dead #poetry #shortstory MT = might trigger


watched a documentary on the Haida honouring their dead


saw how totem poles used to hold their bodies in bentwood boxes set in the head


then some white man came along


dishonoured their bones and stole them away


like most things the white man did


the Haida had no say


kicking around in dusty old museum drawers a hundred years later


when they should’ve been honoured so their spirits could go home to Creator


how they raised $100,000 to fly to Chicago to repatriate their ancestors’ bones


can you hear my moans


I cried to watch how they treated their dead


their dead


as sacred


where I come from


people were disrespected in life and in death


abused as they took their very last breath


the enormous guilt I carry


it weighs me down


why am I still here


while they’re in the ground


when can I stop trying to pretend


honesty and authenticity


a dying trend


if I could share my truth as part of every day


would the survivor guilt I carry


ever go away


sometimes I long


I long to go home


sometimes I long


I long to go home


©2012 Clear Wind Blows Over the Moon

*toned down version with words removed.


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