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!