Poet Warrior: A Memoir

I always feel somewhat lost when reading Harjo; as if I skipped over a key paragraph or like the key to understanding is dancing just out of the corner of my eye. It's not, and I've stopped trying to wrap my head around it, because it's like night vision: stare directly at the object, and you'll never see it. Only by gazing obliquely do you have any chance of seeing its outline.

Side glances are not my thing. I'm left-brained, analytical. Give me bright direct sunlight, not shimmery reflections. I'm also trying to grow, in whatever few days are left to me, and that's why I keep reading Harjo. We speak different languages, even inhabit slightly overlapping realities, but hers is a reality I can and want to learn from: one of forgiveness, compassion, strength, respect. I will never fully understand her works, but I want to be someone who keeps trying.