huk’an gųą [fireweed]
The ground still smolders
Flames lick the remaining trees, now posts
Raw
Standing stoic on the land
Blackened burns sting to the touch
Igniting memories that dance around us in the smoke
–
Ash smudged on our faces
Making us dirty with their gaze
They try to wash us away
Wholly
Water dripping off our cheeks
Tears released to soothe burning tongues
Branded with the mark of a foreign-speaking god
–
Life as it was, cremated before our eyes
We are witnesses
With charred roots
Distant and unrecognizable to each other
Ash floats around us, dusting the warm soil
Incubating all that remains buried beneath the destruction
–
Heat that once left scars now kindles awakening
Below the surface
Held within the depths of our mother
Earth cradles our beginning
As it radiates towards the core
Tethering itself to life as it was
–
Only once firmly bound to the source
True liberation
Surfaces for the first time
Again
Its ascent stems from the deepest knowing
Determined to emerge unscathed
–
Shooting upwards toward limitlessness, it unfurls
Appendages reoccupying space some considered empty and forgotten
Drenched in love and light
Inherent patterns of reciprocity wake, rejuvenated
And begin cycling nourishment through kindred
Pathways of interconnection
–
Inertia stands idle
A paid witness of our collective mobility
Shared consciousness, turned active
Culminates in pure beauty
We glow magenta
Vivacity radiating from our inner depths
–
Sheer will births the first fruits
Encapsulating longevity and continuance
Multitudes of new beginnings prepare to take flight
Outfitted for the longest of journeys
Each a minute record of all that was
And all that can be
–
We are released
Lianne Charlie is a Little Salmon/Carmacks First Nation. Her poem is titled ” huk’an gųą “, which means fireweed in Northern Tutchone. Her poem uses fireweed and its growing patterns as a metaphor for the story of her people, their experiences with (continued) colonialism and their revitalization.
