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| My visit to the Sunchild First Nation Reserve in Alberta forced me to check my privilege at the door. We stayed in a house on the reserve and got the true Rez experience. When I said we could walk to the school because our house was only on the next street over, one of the Sunchild youth corrected me: "There are no streets here, only dirt roads!" That and everything else I saw on the Rez inspired this poem. |
There are no streets here,
only dirt roads. All roads
lead to a better life
somewhere else, because
there is no opportunity here.
Piecing together an existence
is the goal, meaningful work
and a living wage just a dream.
There are no jobs here,
only people. Families,
mothers, fathers, children in
isolation and darkness because
there is no light here.
If you can't see, how can you
find a way out? Just like at home,
more and more people believe
there is no future here.
