WARRIORS

You have walked for years

Proud of your choices

Proud of your language

Proud of the God you worship

You took a group of people

Not just any people

First Nations people

And you broke them down

Sent One here and Twenty Two there

You didn't take the time to understand

You took away their identity

You took away everything

And buried it in the ground

You watched them suffer

To this day they suffer

And all you do is laugh

You punished the child out of them

You punished the language out of them

You killed the person inside of them

You made something sacred to them vanish

Vanish like the happiness

Vanish like the families

Vanish like the love

They had in their hearts

They call First Nations warriors

Because we are strong

We are infinity

We are special

Some of us are still angry

Some have found forgiveness

Some have found faith

And some still hurt

We all know the stories that lay

Beneath their eyes

We feel the hurt

That you have caused

We do not understand

We do not forget

And it still hurts

But we have each other

Side by side

United as a team

of WARRIORS

Why I became a writer

Growing up, most of my life, I didn’t have a father or many friends. I was bullied badly, and I had many mental health issues by the time I was seven years old. I lost a lot of people in my life. I gained new friends, and lost friends. My new friends betrayed me and family. I lost what seemed to feel like everything. When I was nine, my father died. My father didn’t take care of himself, and he also abused drugs. After my father died, my family was falling, but we were still standing tall. At the age of 12, my brother committed suicide.

My family suffered a great loss; they broke, and it is still taking them to long to cope. I was going through a lot, and I was suffering every single day. During the suffering, I was being bullied, I did not have any friends and I was in a deep depression. Everything started building up, so on October 21st, 2012, I committed suicide and survived. For two years, I quit school and stayed in my room because of how ashamed I was. I didn’t let anybody see me. I would wait until my family was asleep and then I would sneak out of my room to eat. It was a difficult time. One day I was sitting around, and I wrote a story. And then a story turned in to a poem, and a poem turned into more and more poems.

I didn’t have any idea that I was smart, beautiful, talented, and IMPORTANT. Life became so meaningful to me, and I shared my stories. My stories became inspirations. My poetry was being published, I was being asked to do performances. I am now a public speaker, poet and student. Sometimes I lose my ways. Sometimes I still need to get help. But I am not afraid to seek help. When I know my mental health is getting in the way, I run and find help. It takes time for me to get what I need, but struggling only makes us stronger. I struggled so much in my life, and it hurts to think about the things that I’ve been through.

The bad times are going to make good times. The experience is unreal, and I try not to think about it, but that’s how I make myself—through my writings, through my mental health, through my experiences and my life lessons. Writing saved my life and I am completely grateful.