tawastêw ~ The Passage Is Safe

Above your hospital bed a sign:

tawâw.

An Irish chaplain visits us,

reads the other sign: Céad míle fáilte.

A hundred thousand welcomes, she says,

then tells us she learned Gaelic

as a child. tawâw says the sign

in the language you learned as a child,

nêhiyawêwin, beside the Gaelic welcome.

She sings a song in Gaelic,

about a little boat

looking for a safe harbour,

a haven with an opening.

tawâw, just like the word says,

there is room, always room for one more.

We float on this metaphor

knowing that the Creator

makes room for you.

ê-têhtapahipêyâhk

nipîhk kâ-âstêkamik,

ê-kiskêyimâyâhk kisê-manitow

kîsikohk ê-tawinamâsk.

You walk through the opening,

having not walked for nearly a year.

kisâpohtawêhtân.

Relief comes slowly, gently,

as an ending opens the beginning,

as we know you surpassed your suffering.

The Creator

kîsikohk ê-tawinamâsk.

We hear this gracious

Innkeeper beckoning,

tawâw ôta. maht êsa pîhtokwê. ôta ka-kî-aywêpin.

“There is room here. Please come in. You can rest here.”

The passage is open, safe.

tawastêw.