Littoral

The sun is out and the walk to the Old Port is warm and inviting. Recently I’ve been drawn to this bench that faces the river, the Grand Quai tower, and Habitat 67. This is my favourite part of the summer: mostly sunny, about 20 degrees, people out with their dogs and their coffees and their tote bags, crossing runners in short shorts with the light eastward breeze pushing through their hair.

The river’s surface is calm, sparkling in the sun.

Fitting: to my far right, a Canadian flag flutters in the wind, asserting its ownership over these stolen Indigenous lands and these waters that hold the remnants of my ancestors.

It was always a lie. I know this because we are still here.

I am still here. Still sitting in the sun on a Tuesday morning with nowhere to be but in the present moment.