In longhouses, teepees, and sweat lodges, Indigenous made their mîkiwâm.
Under stars and velvet black sky, Indigenous spoke of gocho and lineage.
Across prairie land, Indigenous moved the soft beauty of iiníí off steep cliffs.
In arctic cold, Indigenous danced like Wawatay; free and bold.
Soon colonizers’ eclipse would cast menacing shadows on Native land,
Forbidding stories, culture, and dance.
Washing colour from wampum belt beads and spreading white man’s royal creed.
This aberrant eclipse would last for decades,
Letting the dark patina perverted actions,
And obscure the wounds that assimilation cast.
Now see how Native Bands have endured indignity,
Hear how they speak with pride and dance like Northern lights.
Indigeneity is not a tale of the past; it has survived to modernity.
From far and wide blessed eyes see Indigenous Masterpiece.
How the rhythmic love of ancestors never ceased.
This is Indigenous resilience.
Let’s honour calls to action,
And acknowledge Indigenous brilliance.