I was helping Father____
glue stickers to the school window.
First came the angel
over the stable
watching over everyone
Use lots of glue he said
You ‘member those schools?
I musta been eight or nine
before Christmas it was.
I was helping Father____
glue stickers to the school window.
First came the angel
over the stable
watching over everyone.
Use lots of glue he said
Then Mary and Joseph
who were looking at baby Jesus
the three kings.
Afterwards Father____ thanked me
then that rat…
You know.
The last thing
I remembered was
where were the shepherds?
Author Statement:
In September of 2015, I read a piece in The Walrus titled “If These Walls Could Talk: the physical trace of residential schools,” and I recall how a deep sadness filled me — I felt I was caught inside a maelstrom. It was a moment of helplessness. I was particularly drawn to the photograph of the Nativity pasted on the window, a familiar scene we see on snow-covered lawns and in stores at Christmas. How ironic, I thought that this scene of love contrasted to what was happening in the residential schools. Then I heard the voice of an Indigenous Elder. I imagined him as a small boy telling me his horrendous story. Far from his family he had no place of comfort, ashamed of what was occurring in his young life. Gradually this poem emerged. I hope the spirit of this boy’s words shows the need for reconciliation.
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