Saturday, October 18, 2008

Canadian Poetry

Strong images evoked - poets arising
out of wheat fields
with the words of the French echoing around;
poets with salt in their eyebrows,
blown in from the east-coast wind.
Poets as products
of the indigenous, dark-skinned,
smooth-tongued people who bore this earth before us.
Verses, lines, and words come: a result of
the melodious language and the manner in which they sight the landscape, in
reverence, adoration, affection, intimacy.

They are our mothers.

We, their children.

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