The heavy beat in my chest, blood rushing rapidly to my brain
Fondly, my knees keep my torso from dragging me back to the cold dirt
Every bound bone is loosening,
Every tear already sunken into my skin
Taking only a sniffle of air
To keep my eyes from swelling from the stench
Hagioptasia, the muscles in my face forget their purpose
The soulless hulk before me, once warm and full of wonder
Now merely carrion
An animal still who had a life to live
only so ended by a guileful predator
The scant things I remember while dissociating
The crisp of the wind,
Crackling leaves,
A sharp searing pain in the gut of my body,
I wasn't injured
I was afraid of guilt that did not belong to me
Mileah Wawatie is a 14-year-old Anishinabe kwe from Barriere Lake and Kitigan Zibi, carrying the strength, creativity, and spirit of her ancestors. She is a quiet but powerful young woman who expresses herself through art, often filling pages with drawings that reflect her imagination, culture, and the world she observes around her. Mileah also loves to write—stories, poems, and little pieces of truth from her heart—using her words as a way to make sense of her feelings and experiences.
She is deeply connected to her family, her community, and the land, learning the teachings passed down from her kokoms and aunties. Whether she’s sketching, journaling, helping at gatherings, or spending time on the land, Mileah carries herself with kindness, curiosity, and a growing confidence in who she is becoming. She represents the next generation of Anishinabe youth—talented, rooted, and full of possibility.