Submission by Joy Harjo.
She has served three terms as the United States Poet Laureate. She is the author of the memoir “Poet Warrior.”
Sundown Walks to the Edge of the Story
In the lands of forgotten memories,
I hear a woman singing.
A dog runs in circles, barking.
Then children laugh as they run through,
The sashes of one girl’s dress are dragging
On the ground from playing horse.
In this story is a woman with a husband she adores.
He is the color of warm brown earth, tall,
With kind eyes that shine with love for her.
When he loves, it is with every part of his body,
From his planted feet to his head good with numbers.
When she first lay down with him, their love made roots
That dove into the ground, caressed the stones.
These roots find water where water is needed.
Those nights of early love, he spoke to her when she was sleeping.
His words were the vision of an architect of dreams.
He told her how he would treasure her, how they would walk
Through this life to the next with each other, no matter
The tests and disappointments that befall a human
On this earthly road.
Those words blossomed into flowers, waters, and sunrises.
She wears each day as a river pearl in a necklace. Though the pearls
Darken with age, they never let up their glow.
Time is nothing in those lands.
It has been years.
They lay down together to sleep, in their grown old bones,
Their weathered skins.
She is a woman made of words.
He is a man now impatient with words.
They hold hands in the dark and fall asleep together.
I find them, as sundown walks to the edge of the story
To wait for sunrise. I find them in a song about a woman
Weeping with joy, about a man whose love for her
Does not need words but contains every color
That love has ever worn.
