A Cree Maiden
By Richard L. Provencher
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Not so nice a sight in 1967
days when booze ruled.
I remember tourists
shouting as if it
was normal entertainment
a lady of native origin
drunked up a sad sight
holding up the train
brochures called the Polar Bear
Express but going nowhere
this very moment her
hands wrapped around the
railway steel an ample
girth keeping the two OPP
constables sweating
in their tunics
as they grappled with
her fingers
the train blowing its horn
crowd in no hurry to depart
the scene and I heard her
huffing with each blow
rained against her
shoulders and arms
two burly uniforms unable to
unclench strong fingers
locked in an ancient battle.
I quietly cheered her
stubbornness never mind
the boozy intake
I’m sure she guzzled more
than a few mouthfuls
but I was not her
enemy and raised my arm
in support of her intentions to
delay the train
to prevent these fine people from
worlds beyond her village
of tents and forgotten dreams
I trembled in her defiance
and I too mouthed the words
I’m sure she wished to exclaim
in my English tongue:
this is my land
this is my land.
© Richard L. Provencher
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Comments
A very touching reflection
Parson Thru
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