Re-solution

Tribal—who’d a thunk it was
     The missing piece
          That lay between us all
               These years – so near
                    And yet so far –
                         The chasm of
                              These ceaseless
                                   Wondering days.

There it was –
     So crystal clear
          In all its simpleness and charm.

Yet there it was
     With its strange perplexity
          And harm.

Enough, I thought,
     That TCK
          And all the messiness
               That brings into one’s life –
                    Enough that is for
                         One of us –
                              But two?
                                   Or three?
                                        Or more?

It matters not I guess
     For in the foldedness
          Of each of our affected lives,
               There lives enough
                    To cause such rifts –
                         Yet bring
                               Into each life
                                    Sweet liberty
                                         From convoluted
                                              Life.

But there it was –
     Again, and again
          He spoke the words
               That after all these years
                    Unlocked the door
                         That up ’till now
                                  Remained
                                       Quite closed –
                                            Till now.

Perhaps one line
     Or two might be excused
          As mixed within
               By accident –
                    Perhaps one line –

But never this –
     The long unfolding statement
          Of a life he’d lived
                In quiet desperation –
                     Of a life
                          Unknown to those
                               Outside
                                    The boundaries
                                         Of his
                                              Quiet life
                                                   Within.

For no –
     There’s no mistaking that –
          Not drawn from books
               Or teachers or his friends –

The only source
     For information quite that good
          Is being there –
               Informed perhaps
                    By later contact
                        With the words,
                             But at its base
                                  Reality
                                       And life.

A TCK –
     With all its interwovenness
          And anguish of one’s soul –
               Alone –
                    And yet that bridging mix,
                         One foot on each shore
                              As each one weaves a tattered kilt
                                   From threads spun out
                                       And drawn from
                                               Each side
                                                    Of the pond.

I’d wondered if
     Effect of journey into
          Depths of cultures
                Home to me –

Had touched his soul
     Or had
           The deep effects
                Of contact
                     Through my kin.

But there it was –
     And now a bridge between
          The cultures of his kin
               And land in which
                    His early years
                         Were spent.

That blend –
     Unique to him
          Yet shared and drawn
                In all its mixed complexity
                     From both his childhood sides.

And now
     A living base
          On which to build
               An edifice sublime,
                    Or fit
                         To crumble,
                              Taking all
                                   To tangled
                                        Death.

Despair indeed –
     I know that lonely walk
          Of agony
               And splendid
                     Isolation.

Perceiving all –
     With distant eyes
          Which penetrate
                From outside
                    That which others think
                          Is all you are –

But no –
     You’re more than that,
          And greater for
               Not being part
                     And parcel of
                          One side.

For when complete
     A TCK is part
          Of both surrounding cultures
               Of his childhood
                    Years.

And on that base
     Their rises as he grows
          A life that’s free –
               Enriched,
                    Yet not enslaved
                         By foibles
                              And restraints
                                   Of either side.

Paul was like that –
     That mix of his rich parentage
          And context of his birth.

A Jew of course,
     But Gentile also –
          Citizen of both
               Those ancient worlds.

His growth enriched
     By education from
          Contending foes –
               He was them
                     Both.

Not superficially –
     But deep within his being –
          Liberated by that fact –
              Yet trapped
                   For all the richness
                       Of his Jewish side
                            Could not be shared
                                   In all its fullness
                                        With his
                                             Other kin.

Until that day –
     When blinded
          By the light
               Of seeing life for real,
                    He stumbled, fell,
                          Eyes opened
                               By a friend
                                    He had not met –
                                         He came to life.

And so today –
     Amazing beauty in his words,
          As he poured out
               The secret of his life –
                    As TCK –

For in that tribal way of life
     Which he described,
           I heard that clear
               Description of a way
                    Of viewing life
                         Which only could have come
                               From years before –
                                    From people of his
                                         Home.

Yes, home indeed –
     His Echoland –
          So rich and deep,
               That sacred solitude
                    Unwrapped
                         And still unwrapping
                              As he lives
                                   Remaining days
                                        Throughout his
                                             Life.

How rich that blend –
     Of Oji-Cree
          And Scottish
               Mixed with more and more
                    Ojibway –
                          Echoland
                               In all its splendid
                                     Quite confusing
                                          Mix.

Oh yes, indeed,
     And now
          As we proceed once more
               To day set out each year
                    To celebrate just who we are
                         As members of this
                              Global town –

We think once more
     Of life we live
          Here in this land
               Of ice and snow –

And deep within,
     Sense of freedom in our veins
          As we live out each day
               Enriched – enriched indeed
                    By all we’ve been
                        And are.

And celebrate today
     A life that’s given to us
          In all its rich complexity –

By One above,
     Who bid our fathers journey
          From their homes,
               And thus enrich
                    Not just the lives
                         Amongst the folks
                              Where they abode –

But their own lives,
     And lives of children raised
          In splendid isolation
               From our parents’ homes –
                    Yet also from
                         A culture
                               Not of ours.

Enriched indeed
     And thus endowed
          With gifts to bring
               Both groups –

The gifts which come
     From life enriched
          With closeness
               Yet that distance
                    Which enables
                         Us to see –

And seeing,
     Be one set of eyes
         Which gathers of the best,
              And shares across the chasm
                   Of each culture’s bounded
                        Shores
                             The splendid richness
                                  Of each other
                                       Half.

And there it was –
     The richness of that tribal form
          Which those who lost
                To treachery and shame
                      Have all but left behind.

But no – it’s there intact;
     And lies now on our table,
          Fit for structured life
               In all its corporate
                    Enterprise.

A set of rules,
     So ancient and so wide-spread
          No one knows their roots –
               The rules of kin –
                    And tribal life in
                         All its porous blend
                              Of tight simplicity.

And yet not bound,
     For from the other’s shores
          Comes liberty
               And global openness.

Drawn from a Christ
     Who said to them –
          Take salt
               And light
                    And leaven
                         To the world

Enrich their lives,
     And free them to enjoy
          Rich fullness of their ways,
               And be a blessing
                    To them all.

They did –
     And so our Scottish kin
          And native friends
               Have been set free,
                    In splendid solitudes –
                         To mix at last
                              Here in this frozen land
                                   In hybrid vigor
                                        Of us
                                             TCK’s.

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