Newfoundland Diaspora

Below is a nonfiction poem I wrote for the "150 words for 150 years" contest run by Atwater Library and Computer Centre. It's inspired by my family's heritage and the current politics affecting indigenous Canadians. 

Newfoundland Diaspora

We are Mi’kmaq.

Stephenville.
Great Grandma White had nineteen babies. Where on earth did they sleep? When we visit her with our cousins, we barely fit.

We are Mi’kmaq.

Stephenville.
Great Grandfather White hunted for food, wasted nothing. Moose stew. Moose hide moccasins. Moose bone knife handles. Use everything you take. Take only what you need.

We are Mi’kmaq.

Stephenville.
Uncle Charlie plays the accordion, sings us memories. He knows the stories of our people.

We are Mi’kmaq.

Port au Mal
We climb the mountain behind Aunt Noreen’s house. I drink water straight from the brook. Newfoundland’s beauty spans the pure periwinkle sky. The white sun burns through the breezy air. Untouched green for miles. No horizon. No end.

We are Mi’kmaq.

Diaspora
Tenacity. Integrity. Courage.

They call us jackatar.
They deny our blood status.
They cannot drain our veins.

We are Mi’kmaq.