Trickster

Trickster

O little earthquake of the heart
One night of excessive tears and the house our family built
slides to the sea Either we gather the night sheets about us
and make a sail or we go down to our knees and gather the sticks
and broken dishes and stack it up again, a humble roof
to greet the sky.

It might happen again, yes: the corn, the stones, the eagle.
The heart shake and the earth fall.
Or the sea will rise up as a fist and slam the burning mountain,
yes. One compassionate being will supplant another.
An angry beast will tear it all away.
So what does it matter,
Rabbit asks, as Rabbit dances over the rift
Between white peace and a red and wrathful earth.
Cry then, or go get a hammer and a hand of nails.

c Joy Harjo July 18, 2005 Honolulu
(first draft posted on her blogsite)