(revised 12/12/04)

We were there at the mouth of the windblown channel
Near the end of a paddle
And the sky was opening up just as it was closing down
And Kokohead stood in a warrior cape of mist above us,
And below the boat rolled the blue kingdom of knowledge.
We paused there at the culmination of ten thousand paths:
six travelers pulling together in that sacred outrigger.
As the day lay down behind the crater,
And one year floated up behind another
And all the births, partings and deaths we carried with us
grew lighter.

copyright Joy Harjo December 7, 2004 Honolulu, HI

This was last night after a practice paddle, right at dusk. Amazing colors in death and birth. Like sunrise. Like sunset.

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