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!
Chicken and Cat 