“February Heat”

I want to write about bulldozers and teepees.  I want to write about muddy fields, and blocked roads, and humvees, and police in full attack gear on the rise.  I want to write about this like it was a bad dream I had last night.  I want to make it surreal so when the reader brings it to life, they just cannot phantom that this could ever happen in the world they live in.

But, indeed it can.

In all my wildest dreams, and with all the conspiracy theories I have in my head, never did I ever dream I would witness yesterday.  I walked around in full grief mode all day, my blood was curdling I swear.  Louis Riel was rolling over in his grave.

South Dakota cried.  

I arose to a dull grey day in Ontario.  In February.  The temperatures been so erratic this year, I am not sure what continent I am on at times.  Creator is blessing us with tears today.

Sarnia is on fire, just moments away from boom.

The only birds I hear as I give thanks for the day and pray for nibi, are crows.

This ‘lil turtle is finding it hard to smile of late.

It seems that we are going at such a fast pace that we are simply spinning to stand still.

I love trees.  I find solace in the bush.  I am simply frightened silly of the madman in the white house down there.  I refuse to give the idiot the pleasure of having me type out his name because the bottom line is this…there is a whole movement behind him.  I think that is the thing to be aware of and have knowledge of and run for the hills from.

Ah, but I digress, see.  I wanted to write about teepees and bulldozers, but it seems to be all tied into the end.  I strive for happy on a daily basis and look for love and only see it in cats and dogs and the world’s gone mad I say.

There is no sense in this writing.  It’s just words thrown together that simply came at me in a time when grief seems to be heading my way.  The rain will wash the pain away.

I am bush bound.

Build a village with a language that only speaks from hearts that see that truth is only found in the wonder of the water, and the bush.

I don’t know much, but I do know this.  I want to go Home.  To heart.  To me. To free.

Wanna come?

M.M.L.M.Belcourt-Feb.24,2017.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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