Date: 2012-06-29 17:00:18
Category: all categories
Metatags: Women, Resilience, Canada,
Why Open the Door?
Why open the doors to your wooden house
if its dwelling on native land?
Your walls hold up the stench
of twisted laws that you share with no shame
the words calculating, discriminating, criminalizing
Laws that allow our forests to be scrapped
our land to be raped
Laws that not allowing all Peoples to have
basic education, or access clean water
laws that encourage assimilation...
more like assassinations of our Original and coloured Peoples
Laws that did not welcome the Kamagata Maru or many other boats
Why open the door of your home
if its still placed on stolen land?
The ceiling hangs to the screams that fight and
succumb to memories of genocidal schemes
The wall paper shows the blood stains
hidden withing the red roses
of international peace keeping pride
I see water stains, the tears shed
of all those of us who are constantly reminded
we dont belong
and reminded we only have broken expectations
failed environmental protections
I see languages drained through the leaking window sills
and accents left at the kitchen sink
Why open the doors to your house
if you are going to shove me to the side?
The floor have tiles of written stories
being pushed to do the dirtiest jobs, the taxis, the nanies, the timmies drives
Why live through doctor shortages?
we are here! with our degrees and years of experience
never leaving us
The tiles show stories of us ignored
at the classroom, ignored in books, ignored in history
placed in stereotypes but given great parts
the terrorist, ignorant, uncivilized, unwanted
but mostly just silenced, unexistant
Why open your house
if you hide your bloody hands and wave your racist multicultural flag?
I was not invited to the table
No welcoming feast
I was not invited with the law makers
nor invited to eat with the old settlers
But I was made an accomplice in colonial practice and realities
Am I only your chess piece
in your capitalist agenda?
Why did you open the doors to immigration
when you hide your real intentions?
I found a table where to share
With Javeria, Kaneisha, Niyati and Chan
A table to the side
were it seems is where we hide
We share Histories Herstories
sharing the broken hopes
of a better future for our children......
but with their names and their skin
we see them falling dripping through the cracks
..of the system....or even leaving their lives
I feel the ghosts in the basement
I feel their sorrows
of all those broken souls
denied rights to land, children
denied their language
Why did you let me in
if you didn’t want me here?