I feel the presence of my son, all around, but he may not be there. I hear him talk to me, parent me, guide me, though he may not be there. He visits Susie in her sleep regularly, speaks to her, comforts her, but he may not be there. Dread grief trails bright phantoms in its wake. These spirits are ideas, essentially. They are our stunned imaginations reawakening after the calamity. Like ideas, these spirits speak of possibility. Follow your ideas, because on the other side of the idea is change and growth and redemption. Create your spirits. Call to them. Will them alive. Speak to them. It is their impossible and ghostly hands that draw us back to the world from which we were jettisoned; better now and unimaginably changed.
By Billy-Ray Belcourt (2017), via Matthew Ogle’s Pome.
Towards a Theory of Decolonization
1. forget everything you’ve learned about love.
2. investment is the social practice whereby one risks losing it all
to be part of something that feels like release. lose everything
3. indian time is a form of time travel. a poetics of lateness.
4. i never liked goodbyes, but some of us aren’t here to stay.
5. superstition is a mode of being in the world that keeps ghosts like
me in the living room.
6. the afterlife is the after party: a choreography of mangled bodies.
7. i made a poem out of dirt and ate it.