Our youth are our future. We must infuse future generations with the wisdom of ancestors
to echo voices of respected elders.
This is our way. Our inherent rights as Distinct Peoples.

One Reality
Mom invests most nights in
bingo cards and rippies.
Waits for the big payout.

Dad goes away to drown the pain and confusion
with brown liquid in plastic named aptly
The Traveller.

Granma ails. Spends her last days waiting at
the hospital for a Doctor to tell her
through another, the exact proximity
size and extent of the foreign body
that ravages her soul
saps her energy.

Auntie doesn't come over. Her daughter suffered
when Dad, drunk, touched her where nobody believes. Like what happened before.

Cousin is in jail for grabbing at the girl whose
thinking is slowed by sniffing.

Sister becomes angry more now
And on and on it will go

Until Rhetoric = Reality.