"This morning when I looked out the roof window before dawn and a few stars were still caught in the fragile weft of ebony night I was overwhelmed… - Joy Harjo

"This morning when I looked out the roof window

before dawn and a few stars were still caught

in the fragile weft of ebony night

I was overwhelmed. I sang the song Louis taught me:

a song to call the deer in Creek, when hunting,

and I am certainly hunting something as magic as deer

in this city far from the hammock of my mother’s belly.

It works, of course, and deer came into this room

and wondered at finding themselves

in a house near downtown Denver.

Now the deer and I are trying to figure out a song

to get them back, to get all of us back,

because if it works I’m going with them.

And it’s too early to call Louis

and nearly too late to go home.

[from poem, "Song for the Deer and Myself to Return On"]"

English
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About Joy Harjo

Joy Harjo (May 9, 1951) is a poet, musician, author and the first Native American United States Poet Laureate.

Biography information from Wikiquote

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Additional quotes by Joy Harjo

All for that welcome home dance,
The most favorite of all — when everyone finds their way back together
to dance, eat and celebrate.
And tell story after story
of how they fought and played
in the story wheel
and how no one
was ever really lost at all.

what happens in this country is that Natives are — our stories, our presence has basically been disappeared from the American story because if it’s true — if it’s true that we’re still here, and if it’s true that what did happen was, you know, was grand theft and massacre — then there’s something inherently broken with the story that needs to be repaired. The other thing, too, is that we are here. And yet, people expect us to be in our traditional outfits, if we’re recognized. They don’t recognize us unless we’re mascots or we’re wearing our traditional outfits.

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The question that comes up when you write about trauma is, are you retraumatizing? Are you retraumatizing by writing about trauma? That’s a good question. I remember the writer, poet Meridel Le Sueur, social activist in the ‘30, calling to tell me when I was a young woman, she said: “I wrote so beautifully about terrible things that happened. And was I wrong to do that?

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