Dear Canada,
Home and native land, or so I was instructed to sing, upholding tradition,
knowing little of its imperfections
until ages later.
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I witnessed universities and colleges
renamed to erase associated atrocities, stinging wounds brought to light
only decades later through the news of
uncovered tombs and public cries for change.
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I heard acknowledgements of the native lands we inhabited,Â
learning that most of us were not natives at all,Â
reminders that past generations
stole this home away from others long before us.
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Though I stand in uncertain land,Â
so long advertised as a mosaic celebrating every person regardless of origin,
I know this is my home, brimming with historic
surfaces I barely started scratching.
