Mi'Kmaq Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Mi'kmaq

She and I feel the same when hear:
“Who the hell…? ”
Right there, then, rest is read:
“Who are you to tell me…? ”

We know well, we are not them.
Bomb explodes:
“Love and hate…” we love them though they hate.
Sympathize, sincere, since we know, and sure care.

They have been scattered, been deprived, long in chain.
Off track and trail, forcibly missed train; and their past is blur.
They have lost their customs and cultures, and their tongue.

She and I are involved and beg them to calm down.
We cry and we shout, for them and who they are.
At the end we can feel: “Who the hell…? ”

And it hurts; we love them; they hate us and are right.

Love and hate
Love and hate
Love and hate