In my dream the social services
Are kicking out all the Indigenous people
And calling them too aggressive
Because their anger reveals
That they have not yet been fully colonized
It’s an unconscionable sin
To refuse to open your heart
To Whiteness and conquest and pipelines and Jesus
All wrapped up like a charitable gift
.
I get ready for work and reflect that
It’s such a fine line
Between killing the Indian in the child
And just straight-up killing the Indian
And Canadians have never much cared
To firmly distinguish between the two
As long as one or the other occurred
(although, to be fair, Liberals incline towards the former and Conservatives incline towards the latter and moderate centrists look for ways to do both)
.
During a meeting at my work
My boss lectures the community residents
About things she doesn’t understand
“Fuck you, White lady,” an Indigenous man says on behalf of them all
A few days later she tells me
That maybe he doesn’t understand community living
Maybe he’s got to go
.
I work hard to make things right
I work hard to prevent further harm
I work hard to pick up the pieces
But it’s hard because my hands
Are covered in blood