The Maple Leaf

The Maple Leaf

I stand on a land that isn’t mine
I sing for an anthem that once excluded me
Who are the sons?
What did they command?

I tell you this 
Should I be listening 
to those who came before me.
I am not native to this land
Born here, yes, 
not right, 
privileged.

Knees connected to the ground
I beg to hear
soiled whispers,
engrained stories, heavy, granular
Clouds damage my eyes


A red leaf falls 
blood washes misty 
Veins traced like rivers,
spirits alive, 
tangled hearts we rise

O’Canada!