Flying

Photograph by Robert Campbell


Flying


I’m still blurred;
I’m not quite here and I’m no longer there.
When I fly I notice that it takes a day or so
for my spirit to fit itself into a different time or place.
The farther the flying distance, the more adjustment.
My spirit loves to fly, and though an airplane is a huge,
bulky, mechanical hulk of brilliant human engineering,
it’s still flying.
It’s in the touching down we accumulate stories.
Flying takes us beyond story.

Joy Harjo January 1, 2009