I have tried to set up camp across the lake
To live again like my ancestors did in the olden days
Yet I’m afraid I might not have what it takes
I feel like a visitor on my own land, a fake
A distant traveller with a sleepy inherited knowledge slipping through my hands
Soon after I set up camp it collapses
Banned by my own band on “Indian land”
And still the money man tries to charge me taxes
I broke trail until the snow was up to my thighs
Tears caused the mascara to run heavy down my eyes
My feet were frozen, and I became afraid
This was not how I was meant to die
I needed to march on, I needed to be brave
Yet through my cries, I never felt more alive.
Then the money man said, “don’t panic” and offered me a trade.
I am a domesticated creature of colonized habit
I don’t know how to wield an axe or snare rabbits
I am settling in somewhere between urban and wild
I will not become the money man’s disobedient child
Today I am looking for a new home
Somewhere past the reservation zone
I will not settle on the money man just because he thinks he knows how to help me survive
I will build a place of my own, in time
I will know when I’m home again when I feel reclaimed and alive
Whether it be in the form of a mansion or a shack
I will stake my heart on the land and never turn back
