Thinking of Truth and Reconciliation Day
I am haunted by the villages,
towns & cities full of ghosts,
of the generations that never unfolded
lost in the mass graves of residential schools.

The babies crying out for their mothers’ and fathers’
loving arms and caring kisses,
baby coos, family laughter, shared meals,
the hunters, the farmers, the Chiefs, the mayors
the craftspeople, the poets, the story-tellers,
immersed in nature and seasonal preparations,
the Elders imparting their wisdom,
all missing, never having had the chance to be.

It’s not only the nightmarish memories
The fear children faced alone
The hopelessness of losing your families
Of traditions just learned and never passed on,
The lost inside jokes, the choked off family vernaculars
The cruelty of the supposed saviours, lingering
Like the knots on the hangman’s noose.

These are all memories that cry for atonement.
But what of the languages that never developed,
The frozen dances in transcending circles
The well-worn paths between villages?
What of the numbers and futures
That never had the chance to celebrate
Life’s milestones? Let them
Walk with their descendants,
Heads held high with pride,
While we bend ours in shame.

Jack Urowitz
September 30, 2021