The Stone Collection

Gerry is the only man I've ever loved.

We met at a dinner at his parents' home one early spring evening. His mother had become a fast friend after coming to my aid at a poetry reading. Two Greedy Minds had been circling, quizzing me about life on the reserve, Native spirituality, the appropriation of Native stories, land claims, the rights of sports fishermen versus Native fishing rights... I tried, politely at first, to extricate myself. Then I exuded an intense disinterest that bordered on deafness.

I openly daydreamed. Imagined myself becoming birdwoman, darting and circling to freedom.

To no avail. One persistent, brighteyed university student continued asking about sweat lodges and potlatches while regaling me with stories about her various brushes with spirituality. All with the kind of open-faced wonder that could drive a pacifist to throw punches. She stared, hanging on my every word and gesture. My hand was a clenched fist.

From The Stone Collection by Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm 2015. Published by Portage & Main.