[Editor’s note: This poem was written by a non-Indigenous person and perspective. The “us” and “our” in stanza four and six reflect that.]
Jesus we ask your healing hands,
to touch our blood soaked lands.
We grieve innocent children lost,
who paid their life’s ultimate cost.
Buried in schoolyard hard to believe,
a graveyard of hopes yet to conceive.
Jesus forgive us our cultural pride,
humble us, and come walk beside.
Indigenous people treated with disdain,
who still live their lives in so much pain.
Help us put ourselves in their place,
to listen and feel their sacred space.
Help us lament marred human race,
and seek compassion for every face.
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