Two Poems

Duncan Mercredi

i speak cree to myself
ni nehinawewimison

i speak cree to myself when i drive
ni nehinawewimison ispi e pimipaniyan

i whisper these words aloud
ni kimochipsiskan
to connect
e wi aniskomochikeyan
to dream
e wi pawataman
to live
e wi pimatisiyan
i speak cree to myself
ni nehinawewimison
so i will not lose my tongue again
esa mona kihwam ni wanihtahan ntayamowin
my voice should be cree
ntaki ayamiyan nehinawewinihk
my other voice should stand back
kotak ntayamiwin ta ki nipawiht otanahk
let my voice be heard
ntayamiwin ta ki pehtamek
so that you can understand
kittu ki nisitotamek
we did not disappear
mon ni ki poninokosinan
we only became shadows
ni ki chickastesimowinan poko
to be displayed
ta ki wapamikowinan
to be mocked
ta ki anisinakemowinan
to be removed
ta ki wepiniht
from your conscience
ochi ki mamitonenichikanihk
i speak cree to my self
ni nehinawewimison
so i will not forget
mona ni wi wanikisin
that the river sang once
sipi peyako ki nakamo
that song remains in my memory
anima nakamowin keyapich astew ni kiskisiwinihk
sometimes buried so deep
askow anipaniw nawanihk
that it sings only in my dreams
e nakamot ni pawatamowinanohk poko
that river sang once
ana sipi peyako ki nakamo
then they came and silenced it
ekwani ki pe kipitowewak
i guess hoping its death
etokwe e itenitakihk oponipimatisiwin
would silence me
ta ki nikipiton
but i speak cree to my myself when i drive
ata maka ni nehinawewimison e pimipaniyan
i cannot forget
mona ni wi wanikisikisin
that i lost my tongue once
e ki wanitayan nitayamowin peyako
but it has reawakened
ata maka ki waniskapaniw
no longer silenced
mona ekwa kipitawaw




we could name many indians
ninanaw ki ki ininkatewak michet ininiwak
we could tell by their voices
ni ki kiskenihtenan otayamiwinihk ochihk
that they danced or sang
ki nimihwak apo ki nakamowak
we didn’t know
mona ni ki kiskenihtenan
their drum was made of broken bones
otewewikan ki osichikatew ochi pikopaniwi oskana
and discolored damaged hide
mina atihtewani pahkekin
they stayed in the shadows
ki kasowak chikastesiwinihk
dark eyes that never blinked
kuskaposkisikak mona ka ki pasahkapiwak
we could name many indians
ninanaw ni ki ininkatewak michet ininiwak
but we could not speak their voices
mona maka ni ki ayaminan otisitwewina
we couldn’t dance their song
mona ni ki isiniminan onakamona
or breathe life into their drums
apo nehenan pimatisiwin otewewinihkwa
we could name many Indians
ninanaw ni ki ininkatewak michet ininiwak
we chose not to
mona ni ki nawasonikanaw

partially translated into the Cree by Joe Mercredi

Duncan Mercredi is a Cree/Métis poet/writer/storyteller originally from Misipawistik (Grand Rapids, Manitoba). He has published four books of poetry and has had work featured in three anthologies of Native writings and periodicals including Prairie Fire and CV2. After attending the Banff Centre screenwriting workshop, where his work oomsikakispanik was chosen for further development, he received the Ross Charles Award. He has participated in the Winnipeg International Writers Festival, the Winnipeg Storytellers Festival, the University of Manitoba’s "For the Love of Words" conference, Brandon University’s Aboriginal Writers and Storytellers Festival, the Prince George Storytellers and Writers Festival, and the Singing Waters Storytellers Gathering, and he has conducted workshops for the Young Authors Conference in Winnipeg. He is currently working on a manuscript that has been a ten-year project, to date. Most of this work is comprised of writing he has done as a member of Manitoba’s Aboriginal Writers Collective.

Joe Mercredi translated his brother Duncan’s poetry into Cree. He is “a grumpy old man with connections to both Grand Rapids and Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation.” He was raised in Misipawistik Cree Nation, (also known as Grand Rapids, Manitoba), and is of Cree/Métis background. An artist, pipe-maker, drum-maker, and flute-maker, he lives in his mother’s birthplace, Nelson House, Manitoba, with his partner Nancy Moose.