TEJIENDO Our Poetic Rematriation With Mother Earth

When the soul-heart of this book first began calling my bones to storytelling, my body became the very transmigratory altar where they wanted to birth their prayers. On a cold winter dawn with Anishinaabe soils, these stories, woven by matrilineal ancestral relationships, possessed my hands and arrived in a language not my mother tongue. In English, they invited me to embrace my privilege as a bilingual storyteller and embody my intuitive perception to share stories from the Library of Our ...