nawayee
I think of home with sadness,
for it has changed,
aged,
never to be the same,
Like my own temple,
withering away
over many a day,
wandering farther
from birth,
from the place
where I came,
where I had a name
Now I am only a face
of someone else,
a stranger,
the old me vanished
without a trace
Like my own memory,
like living grace,
erased,
by sin and leaving,
doomed to roam
a barren Earth
with eyes to a broken sky
always searching for home
* nawayee — Ojibwemowin for ‘center’
Thistle Thoughts 