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SOMETIMES...INJUSTICE, by                

Maurice Kenny’s "Sometimes...Injustice" is a brief yet poignant meditation on fate, missed opportunities, and the unpredictable forces that shape a life. The poem, structured as a personal anecdote, humorously yet sharply explores the ways in which outside decisions—especially those made by family—can influence one's trajectory. With a touch of irony, Kenny reflects on how the trading of objects—each representing a different potential path—ultimately left the speaker without the skills or identities associated with them.

The poem opens with a striking detail:
"The day I was born my father bought me a .22."
A .22-caliber rifle is a small firearm, commonly given to young boys as an introduction to hunting and self-sufficiency. The fact that it was purchased on the day of the speaker’s birth suggests that his father had already envisioned a specific future for him—one rooted in a traditional, perhaps rural or Indigenous lifestyle, where hunting would be a rite of passage. However, the child never even gets the chance to hold onto this inheritance.

The next line introduces a shift:
"A year later my mother traded it for a violin."
This exchange marks a sharp contrast in parental expectations. Where the father envisioned his son as a hunter, the mother redirected him toward music, replacing a weapon with an instrument. The violin, often associated with refinement and discipline, suggests a more artistic, cultured upbringing. But this path, too, is not to last.

The pattern of exchange continues:
"Ten years later my big sister traded that for a guitar, and gave it to her boyfriend ... / who sold it."
Here, agency over the speaker’s possessions—and by extension, his possible futures—continues to shift. The violin, which might have led to a life in classical music, is traded for a guitar, an instrument associated with more contemporary, accessible forms of expression. However, the guitar is not kept by the speaker; it is given away, and its journey ends with commodification—it is sold, transformed into cash rather than creative expression.

The final lines deliver the poem’s ironic punch:
"Now you know why I never learned to hunt, or learned how to play a musical instrument, or became a Wall St. broker."
This statement lands with a mix of humor and resignation. The first two missed opportunities—hunting and playing music—directly follow from the exchanges in the poem. However, the mention of Wall Street introduces a surprising third option, one not previously hinted at. By listing broker alongside hunter and musician, Kenny playfully implies that financial success, like musical talent or hunting skill, is also something that must be cultivated through consistent access and opportunity. The speaker never had control over his possessions or his learning experiences, and as a result, he ended up on none of these paths.

At its core, the poem explores themes of agency, fate, and inheritance. The speaker’s journey is dictated not by his own choices but by the whims of those around him, particularly family members who repurpose his belongings without considering his own desires. The sense of injustice in the title is subtle—there is no overt oppression or cruelty, just the small injustices of life, the way circumstances unfold in ways we cannot control. The poem’s humor softens its reflection on lost potential, but the underlying message is clear: sometimes, life redirects us in ways we never intended.

Kenny also touches on the theme of cultural inheritance. The father’s gift of a gun suggests a traditional, possibly Indigenous upbringing where survival skills like hunting are valued. The transition from a gun to musical instruments—and then to nothing—could symbolize a loss of cultural continuity, the gradual shift away from ancestral ways of life. This interpretation aligns with Kenny’s broader body of work, which often examines Indigenous identity and change over time.

The poem’s informal, conversational tone enhances its impact. The storytelling unfolds naturally, with each object passing hands in a way that feels both matter-of-fact and inevitable. The enjambment—particularly in the lines about the sister’s boyfriend selling the guitar—creates a sense of momentum, as if the speaker is watching these events unfold helplessly. The final sentence is structured like a punchline, delivering the revelation in a wry, understated manner.

"Sometimes...Injustice" is a deceptively simple poem that, in just a few lines, captures a lifetime of missed opportunities and external influence. Through humor, irony, and precise storytelling, Maurice Kenny reflects on how lives are shaped by forces beyond our control, leaving the reader to consider the subtle ways in which circumstance dictates destiny.


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