tawâw ~ There Is Room, Always Room for One More

Mom tells the story of how

you didn’t barge in, how

you waited until the other guy

didn’t even know what he had lost,

how you told him

you were an opportunist

moving in where others leave room.

You saw the space,

saw lots of room for living.

kikî-wâpahtên ê-misi-tawâk

êkwa ita ka-wîkihk.

You asked her and she said, “Yes.”

There you were, the two of you,

your life to fashion together.

Lots of room, but no directions,

so off you went stepping gently,

leaving just enough of a trace

and just enough room

for others to follow.

ê-kî-tawatahamêk.

Along we all came, your children,

grandchildren, foster children,

cats, kittens, too many to count,

even a bird or two once or twice:

you and Mom cleared a space

for all of us.

kiya êkwa nikâwînân ê-kî-tawinamawiyâhk.

There was so much space around me

I couldn’t see it

until, your circle complete,

you made more space.

ayiwâk nawac kikî-tawinikân.

There was room in your mind

for this Cree language

ôma nêhiyawêwin,

for this Cree culture

êkwa ôma nêhiyaw-isîhcikêwin,

but I didn’t hear you.

Too busy, I wasn’t listening.

ê-kî-otamihoyân êkosi môya

kikî-pêhtâtin osâm

môya ê-kî-nitohtâtân.

Now, I wish I could have seen

and heard more,

anohc êkwa pitanê ka-kî-wâpahtamân

mîna ka-kî-pêhtamân ayiwâk kîkway,

wish I could have been more open

to your special way of living,

nimihtâtên êkâ ê-kî-nâkatôhkêyân

pîtos kâ-kî-isi-waskawîyan.

What do you think of me, Dad,

writing this in Cree?

Could there have been more room

for a Cree conversation,

for a Cree understanding,

for a daughter’s understanding

her father’s honour

in the space between, tâwâyihk,

your childhood and your passing.

Is it enough that I’ve

cleared a space on my desk

to light this candle for you?

Would that I could

have made more room.

pitanê ayiwâk ka-kî-tawinamâtân.