The Monster Beside Me

Basic human compassion and decency is something very unfamiliar to most. I see it in the ways we interact with each other. In all the ways we decide in which to play. Drugs and alcohol is consumed to announce the arrival of a new party. Celebrating long into the night while thousands of others suffer with no identity. We carry on like those who came before us were never good enough to make an impact so let’s just forget about them and take their land. We will consume all that it means to be human and in it’s place we will stand tall as incurable men with a noxious disease. That is how I see things lately. There are far too many willing to never understand.

I can’t believe we carry on like the last two years never happened. That thousands upon thousands of children are buried somewhere in this former great Nation, with no legs left to stand. We perverted what it means to be Indigenous. We tried to convince them to wash away their ancestral roots and destroyed anything and everything we could get our hands on. The most devasting thing we stole was their innocent, precious little children. It isn’t enough that we just dig up these unmarked graves and return their Grandparents bones to their families. We have to acknowledge what was done to them was a travesty and there is so many people that are guilty of covering up these horrors. We allowed their abusers to run away into the night. Just as their children did when they were fighting for their lives. We allowed these satanic worshipers to hide behind a holy cloth. We allowed them to take up new jobs in the school systems providing they were far away from their previous victims. There is no writing the wrongs until we acknowledge the horror. Calling an election to pull the wool over our eyes doesn’t stop what was done it only intensifies it.

Ignorance is bliss but now we all know what was done. Bring these babies home to rest why does that seem so alien to so many of us. If you can’t imagine knowing what has been done to your child then are you really Canadian because all this blood spilled built our land. I keep to myself now because there are so many vultures circling around waiting to find prey. They will feed on the weakest of the bunch believing that salvation will find them at the end. I will never believe that these child fornicators get to find peace once they are dead. The symbol that they left for their legacy should be the very foundation we use to change this land. “A dark man came and stripped all of our clothing away.” These are children with mocassins and beadwork to the nines. Clothing that somebody in their family designed in celebration of their big day. Don’t pretend like you don’t know the important significance of a child’s first day. I see all the pictures we all post on line. Imagine getting hauled off to a school and stripped and have your head shaved. As you walk towards the mess hall you see your brand new clothes being burned. THIS IS WHO WE WERE back then. There is no chancing the horrific damage we did to these poor children. We taught them at a young age that their heritage and family roots were insignificant. What kind of monster gets off on that? Then when it is found what these principals and teachers were responsible for they let them run off into the night. Free to torture another child. I wonder if as humans we can do anything right?

Imagine being forced to give up your children to a school system that was not going to feed them, beat them, not education them and work them to death. These poor sweet babes were the blood and sweat of this nation yet we still won’t acknowledge their role during this time. The reason why the Mounted Police are hated and sometimes feared is because these were the persons responsible to go to their houses and return their children to their abusers and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do. Imagine having to hand over your child to the very person who took their innocence. Yet we forced our Indigenous families to do this over and over again. Never once did they offer up resistance until their children returned with bruises and obnoxiously rude behaviour. A Father in charge of a school was noted for striking “Indians”. There words not mine. In fact he was charged with hitting the parents of the children that had come to take them away from these Residential Schools. How messed up is all that? So many times when given the chance we keep perverting the definition of life. These school were designed to teach these children a messed up way to live and what they lost in their transition was their ancestral teachings of what and how it means to die.

It seems in my life I would rather validate those that are no longer than pay lip service to the ones that are. When you get it you get it and I don’t have to waste my breath saying anything more. Gravitate towards those that want to share their light. Why waste time in another’s shade or darkness waiting for them to call you out to play. I see the ghosts of great people and I don’t even need to know their name. All I need to know is that they existed and together we will find a safe place in which to rest our heads. There are billions of people waiting to find a place to finally call home. I found my home while waiting, welcoming other lives that others wanted to watch waste away and die. In a home of 3 dogs, 9 cats, 7 birds and 2 chinchilla’s I find grace in everyday. The only salvation I needed was giving them hope to live out their days.

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