Joy Harjo ’s ode to family, to ancestry, and to the woman’s body, truly makes sense if we understand that for Harjo, there is no line separating the natural world and her human body – that for her the evolutionary impulse is one of the imagination: “I was a thought, a dream, a fish a wing.” In “Granddaughters,” she celebrates the body and the dynamic force of nature.
This item is available in full to subscribers.
To continue reading, you will need to either log in to your subscriber account, or purchase a new subscription.
If you are a current print subscriber, you can set up a free website account and connect your subscription to it by clicking here.
If you are a digital subscriber with an active, online-only subscription then you already have an account here. Just reset your password if you've not yet logged in to your account on this new site.
Otherwise, click here to view your options for subscribing.
Please log in to continue |
Joy Harjo ’s ode to family, to ancestry, and to the woman’s body, truly makes sense if we understand that for Harjo, there is no line separating the natural world and her human body – that for her the evolutionary impulse is one of the imagination: “I was a thought, a dream, a fish a wing.” In “Granddaughters,” she celebrates the body and the dynamic force of nature.
Granddaughters
I was a thought, a dream, a fish, a wing
And then a human being
When I emerged from my mother’s river
On my father’s boat of potent fever
I carried a sack of dreams from a starlit dwelling
To be opened when I begin bleeding
There’s a red dress, deerskin moccasins
The taste of berries made of promises
While the memories shift in their skins
At every moon, to do their ripening