by Joy Harjo
I really like Ms. Harjo's poems, its ethereal spirit roams in situations, stories and permeate the lines with her words. This book offers many such examples with stories taken from her experiences and stories told from her ancestors and family. I felt closer to her now as a person, woman and poet and in some spiritual bonding we share through the stories we have through our own families and ancestors. We are all interconnected somehow well above our ancestry lineage. The title evokes the story of Creation from her American Indian heritage and comes through the presentation of each poem.
A poem that particularly touched me from this collection was titled "Promise of Blue Horses."
A blue horse turns into a streak of lightning,
then the sun --
relating the difference between sadness
and the need to praise
that which makes us joyful, I can't calculate
how the earth tips hungrily
toward the sun - then soaks up rain -- or the density
of this unbearable need
to be next to you. It's a palpable thing -- this earth philosophy--
and familiar in the dark
like your skin under my hand. We are a small earth. It's no
simple thing. Eventually
we will be dust together; can be used to make a house, to stop
a flood or grow food
for those who will never remember who we were, or know
that we loved fiercely.
Laughter and sadness eventually become the same song turning us
toward the nearest star --
a star constructed of eternity and elements of dust barely visible
in the twilight as you travel
east. I run with the blue horses of electricity who surround
the heart
and imagine a promise made when no promise was possible.
_____________
Meus Otium
There are promises that indeed cannot be broken. They seep through the ground and find a way to be a part of a flower then its pollen so that one day it may be a memory given to you as a smell of rose, the changing leaves of trees, the breeze of the evening air or "your skin under my hand"...Life is full of these promises :-)
I really like Ms. Harjo's poems, its ethereal spirit roams in situations, stories and permeate the lines with her words. This book offers many such examples with stories taken from her experiences and stories told from her ancestors and family. I felt closer to her now as a person, woman and poet and in some spiritual bonding we share through the stories we have through our own families and ancestors. We are all interconnected somehow well above our ancestry lineage. The title evokes the story of Creation from her American Indian heritage and comes through the presentation of each poem.
A poem that particularly touched me from this collection was titled "Promise of Blue Horses."
A blue horse turns into a streak of lightning,
then the sun --
relating the difference between sadness
and the need to praise
that which makes us joyful, I can't calculate
how the earth tips hungrily
toward the sun - then soaks up rain -- or the density
of this unbearable need
to be next to you. It's a palpable thing -- this earth philosophy--
and familiar in the dark
like your skin under my hand. We are a small earth. It's no
simple thing. Eventually
we will be dust together; can be used to make a house, to stop
a flood or grow food
for those who will never remember who we were, or know
that we loved fiercely.
Laughter and sadness eventually become the same song turning us
toward the nearest star --
a star constructed of eternity and elements of dust barely visible
in the twilight as you travel
east. I run with the blue horses of electricity who surround
the heart
and imagine a promise made when no promise was possible.
_____________
Meus Otium
There are promises that indeed cannot be broken. They seep through the ground and find a way to be a part of a flower then its pollen so that one day it may be a memory given to you as a smell of rose, the changing leaves of trees, the breeze of the evening air or "your skin under my hand"...Life is full of these promises :-)
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| Dancer: Daystar/Rosalie Jones Photo Credit: Norm Regnier |
1 comment:
HONOR
Honor everyone who crosses your path. Everyone includes time as a person or persons. It includes sky, earth, air, water and other elemental beings. It includes your body. Think kindly; think light. Even each email, text, each word is a transmission. Each transaction brings either light or confusion. Paying attention is honoring. I will never forget the roly-poly bug making his way across the bathroom of my hotel room in Kolkata. It was only when I went into my light body, in which we were equal, that I saw the light around him, and the light trail his path made across the bathroom floor.
From Joy Harjo's blog
http://joyharjo.blogspot.com
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