Moni Brar
Questions for the Bears
did you stand at the forest’s edge?
noiseless in the damp of pine and ether,
sweet warmth of hibernation lingering
thick on your black fur and tongue.
did you watch us with your marble eyes?
as we invaded your domain,
scrambled over mounds of garbage
to scavenge for small things,
precious only to us.
did you circle my father?
his young body bent
as he pushed aside
broken TVs, record players, highchairs
and his imported pride.
did you gape at my sister?
as she rummaged for a purse
with a clasp, silk lining intact,
her beautiful brown fingers running
along the seams that held it all together.
did you see me digging?
through soiled rags for a doll
with all four limbs attached,
blonde hair begging
to be washed.
did you smell the fear?
rich as rot in my brother,
a jangle of sharp elbows and knees
among smooth bags bursting
with the rinds of other people’s lives.
did you sense the rage?
that filled the crack that became a chasm
between my mother’s brows
as she searched the decay for things
to fill a new life in an empty trailer.
did you taste the shame?
the shame we were digging through,
always digging through,
ripe and nourished
and always on our lips.
noiseless in the damp of pine and ether,
sweet warmth of hibernation lingering
thick on your black fur and tongue.
did you watch us with your marble eyes?
as we invaded your domain,
scrambled over mounds of garbage
to scavenge for small things,
precious only to us.
did you circle my father?
his young body bent
as he pushed aside
broken TVs, record players, highchairs
and his imported pride.
did you gape at my sister?
as she rummaged for a purse
with a clasp, silk lining intact,
her beautiful brown fingers running
along the seams that held it all together.
did you see me digging?
through soiled rags for a doll
with all four limbs attached,
blonde hair begging
to be washed.
did you smell the fear?
rich as rot in my brother,
a jangle of sharp elbows and knees
among smooth bags bursting
with the rinds of other people’s lives.
did you sense the rage?
that filled the crack that became a chasm
between my mother’s brows
as she searched the decay for things
to fill a new life in an empty trailer.
did you taste the shame?
the shame we were digging through,
always digging through,
ripe and nourished
and always on our lips.
Biography
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Moni Brar is an uninvited settler who lives, writes and learns on unceded, unsurrendered territories of the Treaty 7 region and the Syilx of the Okanagan Nation. She is a Punjabi, Sikh Canadian writer exploring diasporan guilt, identity, cultural oppression, and intergenerational trauma. She believes in the possibility of personal and collective healing through literature and art. Her work appears in PRISM international, Hart House Review, Existere, The Maynard, untethered, Hobart, and other publications. She is a member of the Alexandra Writers' Centre Society, The League of Canadian Poets, and the editorial board of New Forum Magazine. She has worked in 13 countries and is grateful to call Canada home.
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