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circesisl3's review against another edition
5.0
Grief, longing, heart, and heartache.
“I am a memory alive, not just a name.”
“I am a memory alive, not just a name.”
kylefwill's review against another edition
3.0
"That's what I'd like to know, what are we all doing in a place like this?"
From "Deer Dancer"
From "Deer Dancer"
dycojams's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
4.25
o88's review against another edition
4.0
*THE EVERLASTING
This is not poetry. Poetry cannot exist here
in the field where they killed her.
There are no flowers though there appear to be flowers.
There is a splatter of blood, there is a pool of blood
there is a raining of blood.
When the soldiers were done with the killing they wiped her
off their hands with gritty rags and a slap of water.
They left the bodies in that field
to the flying, stinging creatures, to damp butterflies of sadness
and pain, to the eyes of the everlasting who
catalogues the cruelties of humans
from one nation to another
from one ragged scar
to another…….
*REMEMBER
Remember the sky 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.
*RAINY DAWN
I can still close my eyes and open them four floors up looking south and west from the hospital, the approximate direction of Acoma, and farther on to the roofs of the houses of the gods who have learned there are no endings, only beginnings. That day so hot, heat danced in waves off bright car tops, we both stood poised at that door from the east, listened for a long time to the sound of our grandmothers’ voices, the brushing wind of sacred wings, the rattle of raindrops in dry gourds. I had to participate in the dreaming of you into memory, cupped your head in the bowl of my body as ancestors lined up to give you a name made of their dreams cast once more into this stew of precious spirit and flesh. And let you go, as I am letting you go once more in this ceremony of the living. And when you were born I held you wet and unfolding, like a butterfly newly born from the chrysalis of my body. And breathed with you as you breathed your first breath. Then was your promise to take it on like the rest of us, this immense journey, for love, for rain
*MORNING SONG
The red dawn now is rearranging the earth
Thought by thought
Beauty by beauty
Each sunrise a link in the ladder
Thought by thought
Beauty by beauty
The ladder the backbone
Of shimmering deity
Thought by thought
Beauty by beauty
Child stirring in the web of your mother
Do not be afraid
Old man turning to walk through the door
Do not be afraid
This is not poetry. Poetry cannot exist here
in the field where they killed her.
There are no flowers though there appear to be flowers.
There is a splatter of blood, there is a pool of blood
there is a raining of blood.
When the soldiers were done with the killing they wiped her
off their hands with gritty rags and a slap of water.
They left the bodies in that field
to the flying, stinging creatures, to damp butterflies of sadness
and pain, to the eyes of the everlasting who
catalogues the cruelties of humans
from one nation to another
from one ragged scar
to another…….
*REMEMBER
Remember the sky 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.
*RAINY DAWN
I can still close my eyes and open them four floors up looking south and west from the hospital, the approximate direction of Acoma, and farther on to the roofs of the houses of the gods who have learned there are no endings, only beginnings. That day so hot, heat danced in waves off bright car tops, we both stood poised at that door from the east, listened for a long time to the sound of our grandmothers’ voices, the brushing wind of sacred wings, the rattle of raindrops in dry gourds. I had to participate in the dreaming of you into memory, cupped your head in the bowl of my body as ancestors lined up to give you a name made of their dreams cast once more into this stew of precious spirit and flesh. And let you go, as I am letting you go once more in this ceremony of the living. And when you were born I held you wet and unfolding, like a butterfly newly born from the chrysalis of my body. And breathed with you as you breathed your first breath. Then was your promise to take it on like the rest of us, this immense journey, for love, for rain
*MORNING SONG
The red dawn now is rearranging the earth
Thought by thought
Beauty by beauty
Each sunrise a link in the ladder
Thought by thought
Beauty by beauty
The ladder the backbone
Of shimmering deity
Thought by thought
Beauty by beauty
Child stirring in the web of your mother
Do not be afraid
Old man turning to walk through the door
Do not be afraid
jenjuniper80's review against another edition
4.0
This is not your typical collection of poems; Joy Harjo has a raw, completely unique way with words and a very unconventional writing structure that bring to life the many different narratives of the Native American experience. Echoes of the poems still remain, she should be essential reading of any lover of poetry, particularly contemporary poetry.
chovereads's review against another edition
been on a Joy Harjo binge since reading her memoir, and her poetry did not disappoint.
thoughtsfromtheafro's review against another edition
5.0
I understand now, why people have suggested Harjo to me multiple times. I connected with so many of these, despite being an African-American and not being Indigenous to this landmass.
I marked many a favorite. Highlighted many a passage.
There are 2-3 I see myself having typed/printed and framed.
I marked many a favorite. Highlighted many a passage.
There are 2-3 I see myself having typed/printed and framed.