Mr. Speaker,
Wild wind city, pitiless with blizzards—And black blues, never whited out, but wailed—Authentic—like freight trains, those steel lizardsThat, loco, veer Prairies, where settlers trailed.Métis capital—backed with Fort Garry,Saint-Boniface—where Louis Riel was jailedSolely by his soul's work: To see, starry,All First Nations flourish, none assailed.Thus, Winnipeg's revolutionary:The Golden Boy capping the parliamentMirrors France's Bastille statuary.(That 1919 Strike had Commune intent?)Guess Who's a citizen of Winnipeg?All fighters, who'll not, for civil rights beg.Wheat Board and Credit Union city, sweetHoard of gold grain and gold-heart socialites—And socialists! Where forking rivers meet,And mosquitoes torque to deliver bitesAs hurtful as long bombs a Blue BomberHurls, touching down as hard as Jets alight,Slapping shots round goals. Not a bit calmerIs ballet—where gravity's put to flight—Royally, of course. Where bison congregate,No hunter's hatred has em in his sights!Where poets and folk singers legislate,A museum consecrates Human Rights.Winnipeg is citizens, IndigenousAnd not, but striving all to live Justice!
That was written by George Elliott Clarke , seventh Parliamentary Poet Laureate, 2016-17.