Blameless

Morning light seeps into the woods behind our house.

Woods that were home to indigenous peoples long before

our history was writ large, superimposed on the land

and the people who lived here. It is my home, now.

And while I struggle with the brutal legacy of Manifest Destiny,

which our European ancestors used to justify genocide,

I am blameless. Instead, I see subtle colors teased from

each tree and plant by early morning light. When day is done,

a different mood descends on these woods. A quiet,

peaceful transition from day to night unfolds. The sounds of

geese and other creatures who make these woods their home

pierce the silence. Their sounds, and the distinctive quality

of fading light, soothe me. Still, there is a vague discomfort,

as if I am an interloper, albeit a blameless one.