Canadian Martyrs Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Canadian Martyrs

Frog Lake Massacre
Became gate to knowledge
Of many of cultures,
Ways of life, behaviors,
Murderers and martyrs.

Opened eyes, went around
And tried to see sides
Of Cree, Ojibwas
And the white that settled
And prayed in the church,
Saw others as pagans…

What shocks me most of all
Is watching them praise
Some of killed as martyrs.

Etymology of the words
Become part of my search,
They lead me to the depths.

Laugh at me and myself
For lacking full knowledge
Of the sides of research.

"You know not anything
Of Great Spirit
And the souls gathering
After leaving bodies."
I confess, shut my mouth,
Try to be polite
And listen to the old
As demand the culture
Of Cree, Indigenous…

Keep reading every day,
Go around, travel
And add to the friends
Of the ancient Plains
And carry tobacco
And some gift of cloth,
Act humble, open eye
And ear and my mind
Sit as of piece of rock.

Juxtapose and compare
The younger and elder
Arrive and sitter,
And beliefs and cultures.

And wonder!
And wonder!
And wonder!

Feel I am nothing but
The light of worm at night
Or some dying star…

I am vase of clay
Filled with wine of divine
Which is the softest love
For the facts, not defined.

Read most of articles
Point at "Massacre"
Of Lachine, Frog Lake,
Find them all one sided.

Read what is history
Written in English:
"The Mohawk Warriors
Were one and half thousand
And ambushed settlers,
That were poor, innocent,
Filled with love and harmless…"

The dead are called "Martyrs"
I smile, sit silent,
In my palm resting head
Drown in history as is said
And picture scene, stage.

Writers lie, exaggerate
To let us think savage
Is every Indigenous…

Look at the other side,
Stories are turned to
Fictional, mythical,
Excess on other side.