Today I continue my journey of sharing the words of artists and writers speaking out against genocide. For no matter how the ICJ stops short in calling for a permanent ceasefire to hostilities on Gaza, we around the world know the truth of the matter. 

I share today the beautiful words and vision of Canada’s Christi Belcourt. As a Metis artist, language learner, and preserver, her voice comes from a spirit of solidarity and compassion that resonates with us now. Solidarity among the survivors of genocide and those who are current victims is rising. Because we can see in the palm of our hand what hundreds of years of history can look like. Conquest and plunder are even more believable as we watch this genocidal land grab backed by the most powerful institutions on our planet. But as I try not to lose hope, it helps to see the following words and art. I share with her permission, these powerful words of solidarity.

I don’t know your ocean, but I know our lakes. And I imagine the love I have for my lake is the same as you have for your ocean.
I imagine you love the way the sun warms your face as you hear the water on the shores, the way I also love the sun.
I haven’t heard the sound of your child’s laughter, but I know the way I feel when I hear mine and I know your love is as deep as mine for all these things.
I imagine how birds will return to the branches of your olive trees again the way the birds return after winter here on our trees and bring us hope for abundant gardens, baskets of fruits, and the sounds of people having casual conversations, glorious conversations of nothing really. Chatter of nothing because there is peace, because the war is over and because the bombs have stopped.

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Ceasefire, for god’s sake. Ceasefire now. Christi Belcourt, January, 2024