Living on the Reserve

Cherry

By Richard L. Provencher

Sat, 23 Apr 2011
  • 2028 reads
6 comments
 

Listen to the sounds of silence
drums no longer thumping,
and only empty rooms
for children lying in graves
around the corner
not far past familiar weeds
on a reservation
now called ‘first nations’
no longer red men, but doesn’t
blunt the way it was--

no electricity, no
plumbing
and outhouses as bad
as can be, nor
hinges or squeaky doors
to worry about.

When families return
for a modern visit
they can see the old graveyard
back of the weeds
where tents once scattered,
new apartments and modern
conveniences hoping everyone
will forget the old ways.

© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/

Certificate U
Poem
POETRY - A Passage of Motion 2
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on
I really like this one richard

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Thank you so much. I remember those days when I worked in James Bay, out of Moosonee, Ontario, a life-changing experience. RLP
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by celticman on
Nicely done, injustices in the past poke through the present, persistent like weeds.

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
And I thank you, celticman. All of us have a heritage, something to be proud of. Yet it is difficult to remember good things when you had to sleep on the ground in your tent, surrounded by family, snuggling close to survive another night. Yet somehow we do. God bless, from Richard and Esther Provencher.
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Evocative and as celtic says, nicely done.

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Your comments too, Silver Spun Sand are always welcome. The advantage of posting material is at least knowing someone has actually read our little nuggets, eh? The best, from Richard LP
Richard L. Provencher