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We know it was hard

but we can never know how hard

for how hard could it be

for a woman with such a smile?

 

In Canada, when two cars collide

we call the people inside

accident victims.

 

In Canada, when two cultures collide

we call the people in them

immigrants.

 

Both are heavy with loss.

 

It is as if

you went to sleep

and awoke to find the weave of the world

unraveled, rewoven,

the familiar textures and patterns of living

vanished.

 

Then, as in an accident,

having to re-learn everything.

 

Learning as a child was easy

we knew nothing else

but learning as an immigrant

stings.

 

The comfortable ways

fled, vanished

like a car in the night.

 

Having to practice here

what needed no practice there,

each word, so easy there,

a labor here.

 

Not wanting to say the wrong thing

unsure of the right thing

knowing you could say it there

afraid to say it here.

Wishing to be heard,

to understand,

but above all

wishing to be yourself again.

 

We can not feel what you feel

but we can see what you can not see.

 

We see you.

 

Your hands, moving across a table

in grace and light

your smile, coming out

like a best friend coming out to play

so warm

somewhere

glaciers are melting.

 

And know this:

we who are born here

not there

who feels its rivers

coursing in our veins

its mountains in our bones

its forests waving in our hands

its oceans washing our dreams,

know this is a better country today

because of you.

 

 

James Lamb and family

December 5, 1995