Photo par Sylvain Gougeon

représentation ''Du Braille sur la Peau''

O Patro Vya, 6 octobre 2017

To all who loved and cherished the late Ben Pouget, a poem that will soon become a song.

That was inspired by a message i received on Twitter, years ago. An anonymous commenter asked me :

''@nlouve Are you from the nations that have been in America for over 10,000 years?''

He asked, I answered him thus, with this poem:

Little human beast, what blood are you?

From what clan, what tribe?

Who inspires you, attracts you?

Who... breathes in your face?

This Strength, Faith, Passion

That has lived within you since childhood.

What smells do you come from?

Why all this flair, this instinct?

Where is it that you place your tonic accents?

Why do you bite into the North Plan?

That you sing, draw, drum and walk?

Straight up, to the West , on Line 9.

So that it does not reverse/ its flow

Nor blacken our lakes, our rivers

I am Red Mountain

White as the lily -when winter comes

And... beautiful and blue

Like my country called a province

So many reasons

for so many seasons to come

Why these head chants

As a soloist among the Catholics

And all these throat sounds

Wet, mixed, blended

That you now marry

To the great drums with so much rhythm

Oooooh-kay

You want to know who still forges

these sounds and verbs ?

How and why to spell geography

Why to write my -black out- family names

Those who draw the destiny

Always created and still are-

Those that now see

the drawing of a possible drowNing

Those who have so many memories to tell

and stories to pass on

to shape the kind newborns

listen...

For 10,000 years

I prefer barter and potlatch

And, since the other century

Thirty-six foster homes

Twice adopted

A thousand shared landscapes

Many precious ancestors,

transmitters of languages ​​and legends

Only One Mother, Only One Mother

Earth.