Image courtesy of the Library of Congress
I propose a toast for Missisauga beach
where the lake’s waves make clarion calls! – retreats…
in a rhythm ancient, as the waves and sand
way older than fights o’er the Plains of Abraham
what these waters perform, it is no small feat
but unlike torturous forces have no walls to breach
what can be called victory, what called defeat?
I raise a glass of beverage for Ryerson park
strands of softness and a silent spark
of the world fire cosmos must have set aflame
some sort of constraint for the settling lake
who’s hunger for land-mass liked a tired shark
stopped reaching for its prey, halting its iron heart
To Know Where The Fire Ends And Starts – The Art™
And this one goes out to the troops of Missisauga fort
not for the causes, pawns, the blood, the war, the sport
but for the brothers, fathers, husbands that would be in there
during the Sixty Years, rebellions and the Fenian scare
Fiat lux! and a lighthouse stands tall on the shore
bricks and hands adjust it: now it’s war its for
somewhere in there: a lesson for us all
I direct my speech directly at the womanhood and guards of pride
and the manhood and non-binaryhood of the Onguiaahra tribe
who first came to these shores and seemed to settle down
before borders came along and the jest of crowns
saw these waters, called them holy, then were marred by whites
blood and tar on knives when the Wasi’chu in war took strides
these white jarring sprites left them scarred for life
Guess there is beauty at the Hob Nob and the golf club, too
beauty can be tamed like shrews, be laid subdued
but true beauty comes from the shores and lakes
the light on trees in Chautauqua Park when autumn fades
sages, tools and crazy fools I pray for you
for the beauty that is baffling be made anew
through the eyes of the Maid of the Mist to blaze a new
pathway crossing rivers not like a erasing tool
but as a trade wind coming on emblazed in gold
where the remnants of the vengeance are not in haze but cold
the way that dish is best served as Eugène Sue used to say – and wrote
before these woods burn down, let’s say we tried First Nation-rule
or at least learnt lessons from the days of old
we must restrain ourselves, change our ways, we’re told. We know.
Friends, I propose a toast for Missisauga beach
where the lake’s waves make clarion calls! – retreats…
in a rhythm ancient, as the waves and sand
way older than fights o’er Plains of Abraham
to settle up a town here, it is no small feat
and there’s no enemies here, yet we have walls to breach
what can be called victory, what called defeat?
When the enemy is all greed inside us… already on retreat?
Source: Arvida Svenske, 2026
Arvida Juni Svenske is a poet, a folk high-school teacher, writer and journalist born in a place called Stockholm, Sweden. She is a history buff, fantasy nerd and a huge fan of hiphop and reggae, who in 2025 just published her first poetry collection in English, Caribbean Wind, Polynesian Storm published by She Rises , in which she explores colonial crimes committed and knowledge lost, especially other views on gender than the two-gender-norm. Oh, and she’s currently writing a follow-up book that details her journey into womanhood, Estrogen speech – and oh, she has a podcast: Cohenpodden.
Reach out to her on:
