Harjo

Poem-A-Day April 21: I Give You Back

Hello Friends,
Joy Harjo is a former poet laureate of the United States and a member of the Mvskoke Nation. Today’s poem can be found in her 1983 collection She Had Some Horses. A content warning: this poem does mention rape and other atrocities, in the context of overcoming them. Harjo has shared that while many of her poems go through rounds of editing, this one came to her almost entirely as-is with very little revision.
— Ællen

I Give You Back

I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now, I don’t know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of
my children.

You are not my blood anymore.

I give you back to the soldiers
who burned down my home, beheaded my children,
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.

I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.

I release you
I release you
I release you
I release you

I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved.

to be loved, to be loved, fear.

Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.

I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won’t hold you in my hands.
You can’t live in my eyes, my ears, my voice
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart

But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid
of dying.

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Poem-A-Day April 8: For Keeps.

Hello Friends,

Do you ever feel like the birds are singing the sky into place? Today’s poem by Joy Harjo is for Amanda and Chase, who got engaged over the weekend; and for everyone else who has found their “for keeps” — whatever forms that might take.

Love,
Ellen

For Keeps

Sun makes the day new.
Tiny green plants emerge from the earth.
Birds are singing the sky into place.
There is nowhere else I want to be but here.
I lean into the rhythm of your heart to see where it will take us.
We gallop into a warm, southern wind.
I link my legs to yours and we ride together,
Toward the ancient encampment of our relatives.
Where have you been? they ask.
And what has taken you so long?
That night after eating, singing, and dancing
We lay together under the stars.
We know ourselves to be part of the mystery.
It is unspeakable.
It is everlasting.
It is for keeps.

■

Praise crazy. Praise sad.

Hello Friends,


Poetry and rain have a long history together. Perhaps it's the rhythm of rain, or the lines, or the gray area. It's hard to pick just one rain poem to send you this rainy April day — but I decided to go with one that is both a rain poem and a  praise poem, by the great Mvskoke poet Joy Harjo from her most recent collection Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings (2015).
Enjoy.

Ellen


Praise the Rain
Praise the rain; the seagull dive

The curl of plant, the raven talk—

Praise the hurt, the house slack

The stand of trees, the dignity—

Praise the dark, the moon cradle

The sky fall, the bear sleep—

Praise the mist, the warrior name

The earth eclipse, the fired leap—

Praise the backwards, upward sky

The baby cry, the spirit food—

Praise canoe, the fish rush

The hole for frog, the upside-down—

Praise the day, the cloud cup

The mind flat, forget it all—
Praise crazy. Praise sad.

Praise the path on which we're led.

Praise the roads on earth and water.

Praise the eater and the eaten.

Praise beginnings; praise the end.

Praise the song and praise the singer.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.

Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
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Joy Harjo was also featured for Meet Me in 811's Poem-A-Day April 30, 2017 and Poem-A-Day April 22, 2015.

the last sweet bite



Perhaps the World Ends Here
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 the last sweet bite.
■


Hello Friends,
Well, that's it: the last sweet bite of this year's poetry month, brought to you from Joy Harjo's collection The Woman Who Fell From the Sky (1994).
It's been quite a month! You have read poems from the 1600s, 1700s, 1800s, 1900s, and 2000s. You have read poems by African American, Arab American, Asian American, Native American, Latin@, white, and gay, lesbian, and queer poets. You have read couplets, tercets, quatrains, spoken word, a sonnet, a prose poem, a villanelle, a pantoum, and more!
On the blog, I've included a handy re-cap of the month, which you can use to revisit a favorite poem from the month, or find the title of a collection to read more.
Thank you for spending this month with me and hopefully embracing a little bit of poetry!

Love, Ellen

Poem-a-Day April 22: Circles of motion

Hello Friends,

A white reporter once asked the Mvskoke poet and musician Joy Harjo why she plays the saxophone, since it’s not a Native American instrument. Harjo replied, “It is when I play it.”

“Eagle Poem” appears in Harjo’s 1990 collection In Mad Love and War.

Enjoy.
Ellen

Eagle Poem

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.