Monday, February 24, 2025

A New Beginning: Sharing Stories, Poetry & History

Welcome to this space, where I share my thoughts, stories, and the journey of my writing.

 My name is Shari, and I’m new to blogging. I’m learning as I go, and I hope to grow both my blog and my presence on the internet. If you happen to come across one of my links, I’d love it if you’d subscribe or follow me there as well!

I created this blog to share my writing, introduce the characters from my book, and express my love for family. I may also use this space to discuss current affairs and politics from time to time. I will also share some of my home improvement adventures.

Today, I’m sharing a poem that stands as a poem on its own but also serves as an introduction to two characters from my historical fiction novel, Tillie’s Song (working title). The novel is being written for youth and young adults and follows the story of Tillie and her younger brother, August, as they navigate the harsh realities of a Canadian Indian residential school.

This is not my grandmother’s story, though her name was Tillie (she went by June). I chose to use the name Tillie as a way to honor her and the resilience of so many others who endured these institutions.




I Am Not Marie

They call me Marie, but that’s not my name.
They stole it, they took it, they made me ashamed.
Tillie was whispered in soft, loving tones,
but here, it is lost like the wind through the stones.

August is somewhere, but never with me.
They keep us apart like leaves from a tree.
I see him at prayers, eyes hollow and wide,
but I cannot hug him, though once I had tried.

The priest saw my hands reach, my brother held back,
they punished me swiftly, the world turned to black.
Now I just watch him and hope that he knows
I still say his name when the cold silence grows.

Two years have passed—no word, no sign,
no letters from home, though I still call it mine.
Does Mother still miss us? Does she even know
the way that we suffer, the scars that won’t show?

My hands grasp at strands, too short for a braid,
I whisper old stories, but I'm always afraid.
At night, when the dark wraps its arms around me,
I dream of my home and the girl I used to be.

I wake up as Marie, but that isn’t true.
I’m Tillie! I’m Tillie!

I just wish someone knew.


Thank you for stopping by my blog!

I truly appreciate your support as I start this new journey. If you enjoyed this poem or have any thoughts to share, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Let me know what you think about my writing, my new endeavor, or anything else on your mind. I will share more details of Tillie and August in upcoming posts, possibly even excerpts from different chapters. It is still being written but I think I'd like to share parts of it and possibly get some feedback from anyone interested enough.

Looking forward to growing and sharing more with you!



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