The Difficult World
It’s morning in Honolulu in this difficult world.
My cardinal neighbor acknowledged it with a song.
When I stepped out into the quiet I gave thanks
for this embrace of peace. The Pacific is rolling in,
from here looks like sloppy two feet waves.
Still, I’d like to go out and paddle into what my spirit knows
there. I breathe it in. Breathe out the worries,
overwhelming sadness.
Elections are being held in Iraq that aren’t true elections.
Let people decide for themselves. They aren’t; the conquerors
are deciding all this because they believe that the oil
and resources are theirs by divine right. There’s no ruse
anymore. The lies are sheer, transparent.
It’s been happening here, on this island,
in this country for years.
We forget.
What poet will come along and sing beautifully
and dangerously? Of all this, all this.
Joy Harjo January 2005
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