Spoken Word Poems by ENG4U
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Indigenous Mental Health Crisis
By Holly Marini Eleven Indigenous children attempting to take their lives in one day. A four year old Indigenous boy having suicidal thoughts. When will we realize they are distraught? This is an emergency. The cycle of colonialism continuing to culture crushing crudeness, cleaves their cognizance of cognitive comfort. This is an emergency. Two young boys living with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Their mother was the daughter of residential school survivors. Who could not wear a visor to alienate her experience of intergenerational trauma. Her mental health began to collapse as the constant corruption cursed her conscience. Sweeping away her spirit as swiftly as a sinful snake, alcohol became a learned-coping mechanism. Her sense of self is a fragile, brittle canvas, waiting for her future to be painted. This is an emergency. The anxiety of sobriety, weighing heavily in a variety of worries, leading to the ultimate sense of dubiety: “when will I be recognized as a human?” Her children now face a life altering disease due to their culture being viewed as inherently tarnished by society. This is an emergency. When will the government realize this requires urgency? I grew up in Burlington, fifty kilometers away from Six Nations, a Reserve that has been consistently neglected. Why is it that upon research, the rates of suicide and depression are disproportionate compared to the city I live in? Why are the privileged in denial of the abusive acts towards Indigenous people? As the white paper sings in a call for liberty, we must respond. |
I will use my voice to raise awareness, and help Indigenous people, for they are the founders of our land, and authors who picked up the pencil to begin writing our country's legacy. Creating government funded counseling, access to safe housing, access to clean drinking water, and prioritizing their education would be a transformative solution to advance the internal health of Indigenous people. They shall not live in fear of the powerful, but rather be empowered to stand up to the favoured. If we do not act now, the next generation will continue to internalize their feelings of worthlessness, and will live in fear due to the maltreatment that their ancestors received. As history has proven when one sinks, they all drown. Those who refuse to empathize with the wide eyed, blue, and wounded birds must be further educated. We need to support the building up of this next generation by demanding the visibility of Indigenous communities and placing societal worth in sustaining their culture, collective well-being and honouring their history. I will stand up for change, will you? |
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Winter Snow
By Evan Popowich As I walk through the forest It’s impossible to not notice The distinct differences during this dreary season. It’s what I see in The snowflakes slowly shimmering before my drying-up eyes, The sun shining brilliantly on all it touches, unimpeded by the skies, The few brave animals gracefully flying, trying to survive, But most notably It’s the lack of diversity The white snow has control of it all. The trees are bare and sickly looking, Yet strangely beautiful; Each one unique like the snowflakes that land on them. Bare branches reach out in all directions Just like our rooted lives and our connections Or like the branches of government Everywhere, wanted or not, is their reach and coverage. The once flowing water of streams Has decided to freeze, it seems It cracks under pressure It’s the perfect measure Of how much one can take under this weather. Under this control. There’s one thing about the shallow streams and towering trees, An important fact that applies to all you can see. In the cities, on the streets It’s all heavily blanketed by a white sea. Have you ever noticed that it’s brighter when it snows? It’s like the night time is pushed away. Night has no say, it just happens anyway. The snow, intentionally or not, casts it aside. A forest during a winter night Is a silent spacewalk, void of noise. It all seems peaceful and serene But underneath the white snow Are beautiful, green, but dying plants - forgotten about They don’t matter to the white snow. The vast sky is an infinite space The rays of sun are supposed to be shining on my face But the flurry of snow blocks their beauty and my sight Everything all around me is white. Underneath the oppressive white snow are the wilting white flowers, withering away. Just because their colour is the same doesn't mean the snow spares them. Society longs for springtime When worldwide, where snow still exists It can be melted away For finally, the flowers of many colours and species, fragrances and patterns Can thrive and grow to their full potential. The next step For those who haven’t seen it yet Is for springtime to spring anew There will be no more white vs black They will get their dignity back And it will be beautiful when they do. Vertical Divider
The hardest battle to fight
By Emily Passmore If you don’t have the knowledge, you’ll be unable to acknowledge Mental health disorder and the side effects it borders, Like suicide, heart disease, weight gain or loss, Those are just a few that some come across. The burden it will have on ones everyday life, Causes uproars of opinions, usually strife. Ed, depression, PTSD, and anxiety, Are the most common disorders amongst our society. There’s so many to cover, but so little time, But hopefully what I cover is somewhat sublime. Don’t eat that you don’t want to be fat, You should eat it all, you’re body’s so small, With her eating disorder, everybody ignored her, Said it was just for attention, and though she’d need an intervention, But all she could think when she started to drink, Was “why is my body like this”? It’s easy to say somebody's okay, Until you look deep into lives and uncover the lies They’ve hidden from the world, while their bodies are curled Onto the floor, can’t take any more, Of the pain, they feel that no one thought was real Asking “why is my body like this”? Anorexia, binge eating, and even bulimia are looked at as fake cause they aren’t leukemia, But 9% of the population, is in this situation, Struggling to see their bodies could be free From asking “why is my body like this”? There are so many ways, in which one might portray, This mental health disorder, which leaves your mind out of order, Flashbacks, nightmares, avoiding certain places, Are just a few side effects in most of the cases, One might feel angry, be irritable, or depressed Wonder what’s wrong? Its anyone’s guess These signs could be PTSD, Which affects 8% yearly, unfortunately. Some may have it from war or from jail, But refuse to accept help and start to derail, Through sweating, screaming crying, loss of hope People who experience this can find it hard to cope. Winning this battle may seem impossible, But with the right help, all paths are crossable. Admitting you’re experiencing post-traumatic stress, Is the first step leading to the road of success, Don’t be embarrassed you’re not the only one Whether it’s the sight of a fist or the sound of a gun. A common misconception is stress being fear, But stress is just something that most feel all year. Fear is something that eats you inside, and puts all reason and ration off to the side. We all experience fear but don’t get it twisted, The fear we have didn’t come from being enlisted, Please see a doctor and get your diagnosis, Your stress could lead you to early psychosis.. So if a time in the past starts to take over Your mind, your body, ability to prover Talk to a psychiatrist, family or friends, You will no longer feel, at your wits ends. Onto anxiety, the most common of them all, When most people have it they tend to feel small. Trembling, rapid breathing, restless, or sweating, If someone is doing this they may need abetting. Anxiety can trigger your fight or flight stress And these are reactions we need to address, Your heart rate and blood pressure may start to increase, You’ll turn pale, or flushed almost looking deceased. At times it may be hard to look for it in you or your friends, But watch for it closely, see what your doctor recommends It could be something simple like going for a walk, Colouring on paper, or on streets with some chalk. In some cases, people may need medication, But taking it with fear shows your dedication. You have got past your nerves and have accepted your treatment, small steps like these lead to achievement. So don’t be embarrassed, one in five struggle Your medication will help you to juggle, Your everyday stressors, obstacles, and fears There's a reason these treatments have been around for years. If you’re taking small steps, never forget, You control your anxiety, don’t let it be a threat. When it takes over your life it’s time for a change, If you don’t act soon you will always feel strange. ‘Are You Still Watching?’
By Nathan Farquharson This past year I’ve watched a lot of Netflix, more than I’d like to admit. I’ve had nothing else to do. I’ve had Netflix ask if ‘I’m still watching’ a million times too. And every time I’ve said yes, Sometimes I wished I could choose no, I’ve been inside all day. I think it’s time to go. I feel I’ve been watching a horrible show where the worse it gets the longer you stay, And you just can’t seem to look away. *cough* Tiger King. Somehow these comedies are making me a little pessimistic At times I question: Is; is all this even realistic? Been watching Netflix all day and I'm ready to go ballistic. My life before was always go, go, go Lately everyone’s been telling me no, no, no. So I sit in my house and watch the same shows. Every show that goes by my mind gets a little darker. Every day the light at the end of this tunnel gets a little smaller. They say that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade But lately every day has been the same, And it has really taken a toll on my brain. I miss my friends, I miss normalcy, I’ve missed out on a lot of memories, I’ve been stuck inside for almost a year now A full year thrown out the window. The more I reflect the bleaker it gets, I don’t think I can ‘keep watching’ anymore. I heard that highschool finishes in a flash, Who would’ve thought it’d end in a zoom? Who expected a two week break would turn into 52? Sometimes I think when this is all over I'll be pushing 32. I don’t know the next time I’ll meet someone new, We all did our part to protect each other But each day gets a little tougher. I wonder how long we’ll wear these masks, When’s the next time I’ll be able to ask: “When’s Grandpa coming over?” I might have lived the same day 365 times over, But I can’t wait till they say this is all over. Until then I’ll just ‘keep watching’ this horrible show. This year has been weird to say the least, Netflix has checked on me more often than the neighbours on my street. I found myself holding my breath passing people on the street, I can tell you I never had a pandemic on my 2020 bingo sheet. Sometimes I question which is more dangerous: A virus or me? And that’s not even a hyperbole. ‘Cause this past year I’ve dealt with anxiety, And seen depression lurking on all sides of me. But I keep telling Netflix I’m ‘still watching’ ‘Cause that keeps me from falling. So I keep watching this horrible show, In hopes it gets better as I continue to grow. |
Masked Persona By Rosie Popescu How are you? The question someone asks when they don’t really wanna know how you’re doing and only expect to hear the response “I’m good.” What does “good” really mean to you? To me? These inner thoughts behind the shield get lost when trying to be someone you’re really Not In order to give others the gratification and provide a face to those where the question “are you okay?” isn’t heard. It becomes a daily task, routine, built like an automated machine 5-9, 10-2, or 6-noon Working all these dreaded days God has given us. Chug, chugga, stcreach, chug chugga chugging through with no one but yourself It’s Hard, This procedure of feeling like you’re in an assembly line. Weakness, Betrayal, Loneliness. The constant thoughts that go through your head And only when the mask is taken off A mirage. Sitting in an empty room with faces on a wall Deciding which YOU the world is gonna perceive YOU as...today. In order to hide the fact that YOU are not good enough so others don’t ask the age-old phrase “do you want to talk about it?” “It’s okay not to be okay” They say Call 1-800-HELP Vulnerability isn’t the answer. But...what if it is? Although these thoughts go beyond as no one knows who you really are. A phoney. Blamed for the slightest inconvenience in another’s life. When the accused plays the victim The victim becomes the accused. This continuous cycle of which you always lose. Being brutally bombarded by thoughts others regularly ridicule on. It’s as so, everyone around you thinks everything in your life is all sunshine and rainbows but they don’t see... See the chains wrapped around your mind containing the recurring thoughts that drag you down making you feel nothing… Nothing but pain It’s hard to maintain obsessive thoughts that never go away Only trying to explain The mask is on, then taken off the difference is nothing has changed Nothing but isolation Like when a painter sits on a stool staring at a blank canvas waiting for a dam to fill So creativity can flood the mind. Meaningless Those who look the happiest are in the most pain as a simple smile slowly fades away Barely being able to hold the tears from falling down your fragile face. Now I’m not asking for Sympathy. Only wanting to raise awareness on the situation of children’s mental health as it abundantly escalates. It only takes one To say you are not alone but is that enough. Now I ask you, How are you, really. Sapped
Anonymous I’m tired. This pandemic is a crime Stealing the opportunities and happiness of what was once life’s joyful times It’s true, not much is the same anymore I feel like I can’t even knock on my neighbours door Because in doing so, I could be putting both our lives at risk, and not following the covid procedures the government has placed us with And I’m just tired Summer was a different time The air was more lively, and lavish and in its prime And the sun was warm on my skin, as if it was a blanket wrapping me up and letting me in From the reality of the real word There was so much hope and optimism And it's almost as if the world hadn’t changed at all But now, I’m tired Now it’s cold and gray And it always feels like I’m just living the same day And there’s not much to look forward to, Constantly there’s an assignment due And I’m tired, as I’m sure you are too This year was supposed to be a big milestone But what fun is graduation when you're spending it alone? And what about the lady down the street, Who can’t be with her husband as he’s pronounced deceased And while I’m saying this, all I can think about Is how this time last year, I was constantly out of the house And now? Well now I’m standing in my room reciting this to you and honestly, I don’t have much else to do And if by chance, there is a task I have to make sure I have my mask And yes it’s our part to keep the community safe But not seeing strangers smiles is not so great The funny thing is I'm tired all the time But when I actually need to fall asleep The wheels in my brain start to wind And I’m thinking about the homework I couldn’t get myself to finish, and how different life would be if covid didn’t exist And then the process just continues And it makes my brain tired, yet I can’t fall asleep The restrictions of Covid have definitely taken its toll No amusement parks, no concerts, can’t even visit the old And School is now in virtual land And I miss the things I once couldn’t stand Crowded hallways, line-ups in the caf, trying to beat the rush in student parking Things I’ll likely never experience as a high school student again And to think a random Friday in March is when this would all end I ask myself, when will I stop feeling this way? When will many interactions become a part of my day? And this feeling of isolation can make way And I just don’t know but I have hope It has affected me and you in different ways, yet we quite possibly may feel the same However, there’s some things I may never understand, like what it’s like to live off a grand In 2 months But I do know, although we are apart, we can come together and lend a helping hand wherever and whenever. Even if we are tired. I think Covid has taught us all that we are stronger than we think And to not take moments in life for granted, as they can be gone with one blink It’s important to be optimistic and look for the light at the end of the tunnel, although at times, it can very well be a struggle But for now, I take it day by day And hope That's all we can do, hope and pray And after this 3 minute long rant of everything I wanted to say, I’m tired. A Game of Errors
By Jocelyn Brooks Volleyball is a game of errors. Defined by grounding the ball on the other team's side in order to score points. It’s controlled chaos. A game of disappointment, And it's hard to find enjoyment, As losing comes with no way of avoiding it. It’s just an intense game of keep it up! But it always seems to creep up and take all of my time. There is nothing more pointless, But I feel rather voiceless as the urge to play takes over me. I can’t help but be judgemental of my own choices, Because the sport is like a poison. It’s a part of me. I ask myself, why do I do this? Volleyball is a game of errors, Making pressure unavoidable. Determined coaches with their intense approaches, Because not winning leaves a stinging on their own pride. Strong willed parents with their biased filled opinions, Who think that only their child is skilled. Teammates who are your friend, And will be with you until the end. But expect you to be your best, And to always give one hundred percent. “Push through it.” they tell me. Push through it. A hard thing to do, but without a choice, I am forced to block out the noise. To try my hardest to act with poise. To find a way to simply enjoy. Pressure teaches me to do this, Which is something I cannot dismiss. It’s a part of me. Volleyball is a game of errors, Meaning you work hard, for what seems like nothing. The ball seems to laugh at me as it darts toward the ground. After each practice my body aches, And I wish that I could take a break. The bumps, bruises and bloody knees, Are nothing like I’ve ever seen. My lungs feel crushed and are like mush, I can hardly seem to breathe. The physical distortion leaves me all out of proportion, Like a puzzle with the pieces out of place. “Push through it.” they tell me. Push through it. Though the pain makes my brain feel drained, I never feel the need to complain. No effort goes unnoticed, Which makes me more focused, To do all that I can for success. Success for my team which carries over to me, Into every part of my life. It’s a part of me. Volleyball is a game of errors. It’s like falling down and trying to get back up, Constantly fighting to recover from your mistakes. It’s a game of frustration and lost communication, With unnecessary rules and regulations. But despite the drills and lack of thrills, The sport somehow makes me feel fulfilled. I ask myself again, why do I do this? Because I learn to push through pain and pressure; Because I learn to act with poise and to block out the noise; Because I learn to strive for success and to do my best; Because it’s a part of me. Though sometimes it feels like too much, I can never seem to get enough. Who taught me these things you might ask? Not a coach, but a game. Volleyball, a game of errors. |