Indigenous, I Am

by Niltooli Wilkins

Loss and grief greeted him while he slept. Stealing intricate parts of him in the dusk.

She gave and gave and gave, often leaving herself forgotten.

I felt nothing & everything all bundled up inside.

My wounded fearful self and the gremlins inside me laugh and say, “no.” The innocent, loving, cherished child inside me simply smiles and says, “Yes.”

It is mine. Mine to love. Mine to touch. Mine to truly see.