.
Joy Harjo on poetry and literature:
- “Without poetry, we lose our way.”
- “The literature of the aboriginal people of North America defines America. It is not exotic. The concerns are particular, yet often universal.”
- “When I began to listen to poetry, it’s when I began to listen to the stones, and I began to listen to what the clouds had to say, and I began to listen to other. And I think, most importantly for all of us, then you begin to learn to listen to the soul, the soul of yourself in here, which is also the soul of everyone else.”
_________________________________
.
Remember
by Joy Harjo
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people are you.
Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.
“Remember” from She Had Some Horses, © 1983 by Joy Harjo – W. W. Norton & Company
_________________________________
.
This Morning I Pray for My Enemies
by Joy Harjo
And whom do I call my enemy?
An enemy must be worthy of engagement.
I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking.
It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind.
The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun.
It sees and knows everything.
It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing.
The door to the mind should only open from the heart.
An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.
‘This Morning I Pray for My Enemies” from Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings: Poems; © 2015 by Joy Harjo – W. W. Norton & Company
_________________________________
.
Eagle Song
by Joy Harjo
To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.
“Eagle Song” from In Mad Love and War, © 1990 by Joy Harjo — Wesleyan University Press
_________________________________
.
Perhaps the World Ends Here
by Joy Harjo
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.
“Perhaps the World Ends Here” from The Woman Who Fell From the Sky, © 1994 by Joy Harjo – W.W. Norton & Company
.
Many thanks to libera nos, intrepid Assistant Editor and STEM Researcher of WOW2. Any remaining mistakes are either mine, or uncaught computer glitches in transferring the data from his emails to DK5. And much thanks to wow2lib, WOW2’s Librarian Emeritus.