“Fish on a Line”
On coming home I saw a lass
Quite drunk she seemed, but no – alas,
Her movements seemed like captured fish
Caught on some line – could not resist.First Nations woman (raised as “nice”) –
No match for cops (containing “vice”)
At hotel door, access denied –
Though family were all safe inside.So “What to do!?” “How to explain?”
So scared she was; was he to blame?
Quite young, and white, a local boy
With vest, and gun he could deploy.Two systems, cultures, there engaged
In larger warfare, which once raged,
But smolders here for both sides now;
Few bridges built for love somehow.For love is not just feelings sent
To ones we know, with whom we’ve spent
Our early days of life as friends,
At edge of which all caring ends.Love is, as Paul in letter wrote,
’Bout caring for some neighbor-bloke
Who needs assistance – don’t pass by
On other side, as neighbor cries –Or twists before you on your line;
Is innocent, no wit or charm;
Just wants her mom and dad, or man;
Reach out, cross bridge with missing span.I saw her later, safe inside
With family, she could not hide
Relief she felt – with family now
She got past cop – first not allowed.Her skin was brown and hair was dark;
My skin is white – when I embark
On journeys to be with my kin,
This built-in passport lets me in.Thanks Holy Spirit for this.
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