I believe in the sun.
\nIn the tangle of human failures of fear, greed, and
\nforgetfulness, the sun gives me clarity.
\nWhen explorers first encountered my people, they called us
\nheathens, sun worshippers.
\nThey didn\u2019t understand that the sun is a relative, and
\nilluminates our path on this earth.<\/p>\n
After dancing all night in a circle we realize that we are a
\npart of a larger sense of stars and planets dancing with us
\noverhead.
\nWhen the sun rises at the apex of the ceremony, we are
\nrenewed.
\nThere is no mistaking this connection, though Walmart
\nmight be just down the road.
\nHumans are vulnerable and rely on the kindnesses of the
\nearth and sun; we exist together in a sacred field of
\nmeaning.<\/p>\n
Our earth is shifting. \u00a0We can all see it.
\nI hear from my Inuit and Yupik relatives up north that
\neverything has changed. \u00a0It\u2019s so hot; there is not enough
\nwinter.
\nAnimals are confused. Ice is melting.<\/p>\n
The quantum physicists have it right; they are beginning to
\nthink like Indians: everything is connected dynamically
\nat an intimate level.
\nWhen you remember this, then the current wobble of the
\nearth makes sense. \u00a0How much more oil can be drained,
\nWithout replacement; without reciprocity?<\/p>\n
I walked out of a hotel room just off Times Square at dawn
\nto find the sun.
\nIt was the fourth morning since the birth of my fourth
\ngranddaughter.
\nThis was the morning I was to present her to the sun, as a
\nrelative, as one of us. \u00a0It was still dark, overcast as I walked
\nthrough Times Square.
\nI stood beneath a twenty-first century totem pole of symbols
\nof multinational corporations, made of flash and neon.<\/p>\n
The sun rose up over the city but I couldn\u2019t see it amidst the
\nrain.
\nThough I was not at home, bundling up the baby to carry
\nher outside,
\nI carried this newborn girl within the cradleboard of my
\nheart.
\nI held her up and presented her to the sun, so she would be
\nrecognized as a relative,
\nSo that she won\u2019t forget this connection, this promise,
\nSo that we all remember, the sacredness of life.<\/p>\n
Joy Harjo<\/p>\n
Joy Harjo 2012. Wednesday January 24 “I hear from my Inuit and Yupik relatives up north that everything has changed. \u00a0It\u2019s so hot; there is not enough winter. Animals are confused. Ice is melting.\u201d Poets who have come to inhabit my imagination since … Continue reading ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/sites.udmercy.edu\/poetry\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/170\/2018\/01\/Joy-Harjo-Instrument.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n
\n(b. May 9, 1951)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"