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creebian
/pt creebian /pt
a flag for cree lesbians ! exclusive to bodily cree people
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We are not only the descendants of the natives you tried to kill
We are the souls, spirits, and beings of the natives you did kill
And we remember.
The death of a loved one.
Its effects branching out in a chain reaction, like a mirror breaking. After the initial damage it instantly spiders out into so many different veins, effecting so many people like a domino effect. I don’t feel there is much that can be done about this damage, but time does allow us to slowly accept that it’s there and to grow despite it. The grief fades and the nights spent crying lessen. We learn to walk again, find new purpose. If not to live for the memory of that lost loved one. Death never gets easy, it doesn’t make sense no matter how often you may experience it, and it comes swiftly and tactlessly. From what I’ve learned, all there is to do to offset this horrible reality of life is to love freely and to love hard. Cliche to say, but you really never know how long a person has… I’ll miss you so much Grandpa. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon, I wish I could have said goodbye…
Watch the smudge smoke billow
The grey flickers of smoldering sage melting together with wisps of diamond willow fungus dance together like soulmates who have been apart for centuries, moving as one
The tobacco melds with them then, cedar joining soon after
The last to join the smokey reunion of spirits and souls is the sweet grass, braided like my kokum's long black hair back in the days when she was young, crossing the bridge to go to the residential school down the street
the smoke billows, like the medicines were never apart, like the culture wasn't beat from our hands with the very priest's belt that was supposed to find us salvation
Every time you smudge, you are not just cleansing your soul, your space, your area. You are cleansing your ancestors, washing away the abuse, the separation, the loneliness, for their spirits take shelter in the smoke. Their spirits rejoice in the essence of the medicines, proud that their teachings were not forgotten.
Never forget this,
for one day,
You will be the spirit
Dancing in the smoke
Of the smudge.
-smudge smoke
and maybe one day, in the distant future when I'm old and grey, my grandchildren will look at me and say
"wow kokum, you're so strong!"
just like I said to mine.
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It's been 5 long years since the last time you were around for your birthday
I wish you could see me now, I wish you could see how I've grown
I wish you were here.
74, you would be today.
I wish I could hear your voice, I wish I could hold your hands, I wish you would talk cree to me one last time
It sounded so elegant from your tongue. The language of our people
Its broken and stuttering from mine, I barely know enough words to hold a conversation, but you knew it
I wish you'd have taught me, so I could wish you a happy birthday in your mother tongue
But this is the best I can do
Happy birthday, kokum. I hope the creator has treated you well.
