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An Apology for the Residential Schools

Your story is hard to hear;

Yet I hear you … finally.

Thank you for sharing it.

You are brave, your spirit endures.

And I am sorry …

For not knowing, and not being a friend.

I couldn’t, for I was but a child myself.

I would have been though.

I felt your small hand

On the worn down, silky smooth stair rail.

My heart wept …

I would have grabbed that hand

And run to play in the forest with you,

Said “I love you.”

I am not native to your land;

I am one of the race that didn’t want to see you.

Yet I cannot understand their ways

And I am sorry …

for what they did.

I befriended a refugee from Vietnam,

Played with displaced children from Laos,

Tutored an immigrant from Holland …

You would have been my friend,

If I could have found you.

But they kept you from me,

And I am sorry …

When I find you now

I will listen to your stories;

If you let me, I will hold your hand

And tell you that I love you.

To be your friend would be an honour.

You are precious, worthy to be seen, heard.

You are brave …

And your spirit endures.

We Are Counting on You

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