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Poem written whilst walking past an old Oak along an ancient pathway.
Ancestral language
partially assimilated.
Stories erased, faces unseen,
Voices unheard.
Lights snuffed out
Tongues cut free.
Place names, spellings, customs.
Replaced, recycled, repackaged.
Beliefs ridiculed individuals persecuted.
Stakes in the ground,
Convert or burn
Today I hear your voice
Carried on the winds
Rustling the Old Oak.
I see your blood
Sweat and tears in the
Bend along the Ploughed field
I feel your bones
Cold and damp, underneath
The housing estate
I witness our landscape
As I stand on ancient land,
Through your eyes.
I feel your presence here
Your spirit never left.
It just waited
Your pain is mine,
The fight is ours
Ancestral language eroding
Still words are weapons.
Call to arms
Flex your vocals
Load the pen
Ancestral rage
Wrapped up in millennia of
Resentment
About the Creator
Jarreck
Just a human exploring the ultimate dream of stretching wings
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Letter to our Queer & Trans Youth
Hey, you. I thought I’d start this letter by telling you a little about myself, just so you know who you’re dealing with. I’m an emotional dad, father to three amazing kids who we met through the foster care system, and whose presence in our lives has really transformed my sense of responsibility to the communities that surround us. The connections we’ve made with one another, with our extended families, and with the communities where we live and look for belonging have catapulted us into this whirlwind of emotional tumult which, while not easy by any stretch of the measure, has also been remarkably healing. I realize ours is really only a one-sided chosen family, since our kids didn’t get to choose to live here, but I’d like to think that they did choose to let us love them, which allowed them to grow to love us. And I think that’s where I want to go with this letter- to a place where you can find belonging and healing- even if the pathway there may be peppered with some emotional tumult.
By F Cade Swanson4 days ago in Pride
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