Awake from caresses, I still feel your embrace running through my body. Shaken and tenuous I go on walking in your image. So deep with instincts was my simple reclamation. From me fled hours of robust will, and left my sensation humble of reasons. I didn’t know about ages nor rigid reflections. I was life, beloved! The life that passed through the song of the bird and artery of the tree. Other softer notes I could have made flow, but my fertile desire knew no shortcuts. I clung to the crazy hour, and my wild leaves bent over you. I freed myself to the purity of a love without garments that carried my life from the unreal to the human, and I was to see all of myself in a scream of tears, in remembrance of the birds. I did not know how to guard myself against invincible currents. I was life, beloved! The life that in you strayed from its course, to give itself to my arms.
A woman can’t survive by her own breath alone. She must know the voices of the mountains. She must recognize the foreverness of blue sky. She must flow with the elusive bodies of night wind woman who will take her into her own self. Look at me! I am not a separate woman. I am a continuance of blue sky. I am the throat of the Sandia Mountains. I am a night wind woman. -Joy Harjo