Saturday, September 27, 2014
Poem by Peggy Lauzon
Ribbons:
September 20, 2014
We
spread out along the ribbon of the Trans-Canada Highway.
We
are 8,000 kilometers wide, but only a pencil line high.
Our
map is not to scale.
The
highway narrows from four-lane to two-lane to gravel to trackless bush.
And
one more polluted lake equals one more missing or murdered Indigenous
woman. There is simply no way to separate ourselves from the land.
Families
drag the Red River at their own expense. Drag our collective unconscious
as we struggle not to look at what surfaces.
We
cut the ribbon at the Museum for Human Rights. Lest we forget atrocities
that happened in other times; in other places.
The
Red River is a different kind of ribbon.
We
narrow from four-lane highway to trackless bush. Or is it the other way
round?
We
are not to scale. We could stand taller. We will, when we truly see
what surfaces.
We
drag the Red River.
And
there’s no knowing what will come next.
Peggy Lauzon
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