Saturday Poem
Creation Story
Joy Harjo
I’m not afraid of love
or its consequence of light.
It’s not easy to say this
or anything when my entrails
dangle between paradise
and fear.
I am ashamed
I never had the words
to carry a friend from her death
to the stars correctly.
Or the words to keep
my people safe
from drought
or gunshot.
The stars who were created by words
are circling over this house
formed of calcium, of blood—
this house
in danger of being torn apart by stones of fear.
If these words can do anything
I say bless this house
with stars.
Transfix us with love.
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