When the curious

at a gathering of fools they wept
and wept until daylight and then the
fire went out and everyone went home
to the insane streets of the pathetic
city where gloom and odor roam
around like an untied balloon as it
floats up into the darkness and the
street comes alive and the people
gather and steal and rob each other
for a bit of coin to buy a piece of
blackness that when burned becomes
the liquid devil that we all dream of
and I am there robbing and stealing
for a lick of the spoon and when I am
satisfied I float up like the untied
balloon and I watch the gathering
of the people as they wept and wept
and I climb higher and I am gone
and the only way back is when my
blood mixes with the liquid in my arm
and that is the only time I am real and the
only time I am unreal and I want
to heal them like I am healed but
when I try they all scatter
and hide in the corners of this
place where a healer like me
has very little power to even
heal himself so I float above
myself and when I look down
I see myself convulsing and kicking
and scratching at my arms as if
being attacked by a million spiders
and they over take me and I am
gone but not really gone
as I am the fate
of my addiction
and I am gifted with
the gift of healing
and when I try and heal myself
I fail as I float too far
over and when I look down
I am gone as the last spider
crawls to the corner
and this is where
the curious
wept for

Questions and Answers

How/where do you find inspiration today?

I find my inspiration from my everyday. An eagle soars by or a memory of my past adds to the emotional state I am in. A good song can be played over and over and I can write a poem a day, a book in three months. My kids and their plight in this wicked world; their challenges as young Indigenous people. My mother, put on a train when she was five and sent to Residential school where she was abused. In her plight, I am inspired.

What inspired or motivated you to write this poem?

This poem is from a manuscript called: Sh:lam (the doctor). It’s a story about this healer or sh:lam who has the ability not only to heal, but he also rids the world of all the evil of men. He lives in the Eastside of any city and he is addicted to heroin. This voice was so pure and writing this poem flowed so easily it was a bit scary.

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