Am Not Ready to Die Yet My death peers at the world through a plumeria tree The tree looks out over the neighbor’s house to the Pacific A blue water … - Joy Harjo

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Am Not Ready to Die Yet My death peers at the world through a plumeria tree The tree looks out over the neighbor’s house to the Pacific A blue water spirit commands this part of the earth mind Without question, it rules from the kingdom of secrets And tremendous fishes. I was once given to the water. My ashes will return there, But I am not ready to die yet — This morning I carry the desire to live, inside my thigh It pulses there: a banyan, a mynah bird, or a young impatient wind Until I am ready to fly again, over the pungent flowers Over the sawing and drilling workmen making a mess In the yard of the house next door — It is endless, this map of eternity. Beware the water monster that lives at the borders of doubt — He can swallow everything whole: all the delectable mangoes, dreams, and even the most faithful of planets — I was once given to the water. My ashes will return there, But I am not ready to die yet — And when it happens, as it certainly will, the lights Will go on in the city and the city will go on shining At the edge of the water — it is endless — this earthy mind — There will be flowers. There are always flowers, And a fine blessing rain will fall through the net of the clouds Bearing offerings to the stones, and to all who linger. It will be a day like any other. Someone will be hammering; someone will be frying fish. And at noon the workmen will go home to eat poi, pork, and rice.