every fire in the forest.

we all share the same forest;
over some parts, a flag with stars flies,
other parts, a flag with a leaf.

it's the same forest,
but it's not a whole forest.

some say the distinctions are merely in speech,
sport, money colour, founding date, the legality of Kinder eggs,
but, no,
​there are important distinctions that run much deeper,

and those of us who have roots on both sides,
​we feel it in our bones.
those of us who live in this same forest,
that's not a whole forest.

if the distinctions were merely in meaningless things,
it would not hurt so much
for our roots to get crushed
or be on fire,

because, when I was little,
I gave my heart
to the part of the forest with the flag with stars,
and even though I grew older,
even though I tell myself to care
less,
​
those distinctions that are about more
​than how to measure butter, about more
than where you take a lake trip or buy health drinks, about more
than what water you fish in or what timber you cut down, about more
than what roads you drive on when taking a shortcut to the Maritimes,

those of us who have our hearts rooted on both sides,
our hearts ache when those lakes get polluted,
when agreements made in Paris are thrown in the trash can,
fish and trees be damned,
when people are denied universal healthcare,
when shortcuts and lies are made easily and easier - 
"cages, guns, and viruses do no harm."

we all share the same forest;
over some parts, a flag with stars flies,
other parts, a flag with a leaf.

and it doesn't matter where in the forest the fire is,
under the parts with the flag with the stars,
or under the parts with the flag with the leaf,
because, every time,
​my heart breaks just the same.

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