A review by sjov
When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through: A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry by Jennifer Elise Foerster, Leanne Howe, Joy Harjo

“The ironwoods lean down their dark needles / to the beach, long strings of / broken white coral and shells that ebb / to the north and west, and wait / dreaming the bent blue backs of waves.”

“The Song that sang itself / had no language / it was a heartbeat that thundered / through the canyons of time”

“. . . a voice speaks in our old language, which we do not know. / We sift through a history with dust on our hands, / the empty rocker creaking in the breeze.”