Drawing a map of what’s been taken might seem like a contradiction at first. Maps are often used for wayfinding or as instruments of ownership—tools used by settlers and states to carve up territory, rarely sparing thought for the children and caretakers of that land. But for those whose territory has been stolen, a map can become something else entirely: a way of saying, I was here. We were here. This happened.
Map of What Was Taken is, for me, that record. Many of the poems chronicle my early childhood and young adulthood, which was shaped by constant movement because of my father’s military service, juxtaposed with my mother’s Cree heritage and a sense of cultural longing. Born in Cold Lake, Alberta, and raised across the Prairies, the East Coast, and the North, I later spent my twenties in Ottawa, trying to understand how these disparate places from my youth fit together. More importantly, I was trying to figure out what remained after the safety in these places I once called home had been fractured.
Assembling the chapbook was not linear. For years, these poems existed as isolated islands in journals and drafts, including some previously published in Bywords and periodicities : a journal of poetry and poetics, where I retained the copyright. Some of the poems were reactions to specific moments in my life: a breakup, a hospital visit, a drive across Ontario, a memory of my Kokum. Editing this poetry collection, and arranging them in a way that felt honest, forced me to sit with the uncomfortable parts of my personal history.
Map of What Was Taken is dedicated to my mother, who has kept me connected to my roots, and to my friends, who I consider to be my chosen family. It’s also for anyone who has ever felt displaced by geography, identity, or circumstance. It’s for those who love people they can’t save, and for those learning to forgive themselves for surviving.
I hope this chapbook invites readers to look closer at the landscapes they inhabit, to recognize the histories embedded in the earth, and to find solidarity in our shared vulnerabilities. Because even when the map shows only what was taken, the act of drawing it affirms what remains: us.
Cara Goodwin is a white settler and Cree, Ottawa-based poet whose work has appeared in Bywords, flo., and Room. Over the past five years, she has received two Honourable Mentions for the John Newlove Award and was shortlisted for Room Magazine’s annual poetry prize in 2023. She recently read as a featured performer for the Riverbed Reading Series, where her poems traced her ancestral roots across what is now called Canada. Cara holds a BA (Hons.) in Social Communications and a Professional Writing diploma. Her above/ground press debut, Map of What Was Taken (2026), is now available. Cara is a proud off-reserve member of Fort McMurray 468 First Nation.
