Lit by the flames of everything I’ve survived — maybe I was never meant to be an angel after all. The light still burns, even as I walk beside my demons, unashamed of the fire that forged me.
They say I’ve left tradition,
while my kids read a book
that once tried to erase us.
160 years.
150,000 stolen.
10,028 graves.
Beaten for language.
Starved for ceremony.
Dying to keep tradition alive.
I honour them.
You preach the book
that buried them.
So who abandoned who?
In twenty-twenty-five, in the land of the free,
Healthcare’s a right — at least, it should be.
Yet here I am, in a constant fight,
For my kids’ health, which should be their right.