Some Notes on a Rainy Evening

Photograph by Bob Abraham

SOME NOTES ON A RAINY EVENING WHEN YOU FEEL AS FAR AWAY AS PLUTO
AND I KNOW, BECAUSE I’VE FLOWN THERE WITHOUT THE HEAVY WINGS OF
HEAVENLY CASTING, OR THE METAL SHELLS OF FIREBIRDS EATING TONS
OF FUEL FOR LIFT.

We ran for it after the paddle, first,
Out past the buoy and then we turned back into the battle
of hard north winds.
There’s no winning.
We just keep moving through slices of rain.
Though I’m here in the bow of a running canoe,
I’m in a song from the ceremonial grounds
Beyond human time or place.
Red cardinal carries on at dawn, talking to the sun
And marking territory all at once.
Can we be sacredly profane?

I kept thinking of what it means to trade this weight
of this skin for something a little lighter: like sunlight
on water or like the moment I saw your eyes first catch light
for me.
Come here I said.
And the water people below us are just trying to hold it up.
It’s a little rough with us surface people ruining it
with all our shit.
Tonight it’s raining urgently.
You’d better listen, urgently
Say the winds.
So, I’m listening to the falling, urgently.
And I keep not thinking of how far it is
to the origin of rain.

c Joy Harjo 2/11/05 for L.M.