Poetry Solace: day of the dead

Today is the Day of the Dead, so I think it is appropriate for me to share a poem about this celebration. This is a poem from Joy Harjo's In Mad Love and War poem collection.

Day of the Dead
This is a witching season, the pivotal mouth as the world of the dead, staggered with the living, opens. Children dressed as spirits and monsters suck candy, parade the streets.

Wind is electric, sharp as truth. Spirits play crack-the-whip in the abyss. I have needed to talk but you are insanely absent and I have become insanely mute. When I hold the compass you gave me, the needle points in a direction that is neither yes nor no. The star map has become symbols I can't describe because it delineates a system entering a distant compassionate universe. I have built a fire in the cave of my body, and hope the devil wind gives it a chance. There is an underground river with blind fish nearby. What do they choose in this season where there must be spirit fish with wings? I cannot sing song of either staying or leaving unless I know what shape it takes when it leaves my mouth. And which direction, because I forgot to tell you that love changes molecular structure. I am transformed but without a map. The Day of the Dead marks skeletal transition and flowers bloom in the snow. I have checked the weather, and will tend the fire until I am forced to join the parade. Then I will be a madman. I will drink whiskey and slow-dance with slim boys, rock with glitter angels, before going home alone. Tomorrow I will feed the dead. Then I must find you.


Have a great weekend! Have fun and stay safe!