Nizhoniigo no hey nay
Nizhoniigo no hey way nay
Nizhoniigo no hey nay
Nizhoniigo no hey way nay
How do we get out of here?
Smoke hole crowded with too much thinking
Too many seers
and prophets of prosperity
We call it real.
What are we doing in this mess of forgetfulness?
Ruled by sharp things, baby girls in stiletto heels
Beloved ones doing street time
We call it real; we call it real.
What are we doing napping, through war?
We’ve lost our place in the order of kindness
Children are killing children
We call it real.
How do we get out of here?
Smoke hole crowded with too much thinking
Too many seers
and prophets of prosperity
We call it real.
What are we doing forgetting love?
Under mountains of trash, a river on fire
We can’t be bought, forced, or destroyed.
Just what is real?
How do we get out of here?
Smoke hole crowded with too much thinking
Too many seers
and prophets of prosperity
We call it real.
Nizhoniigo no hey nay
Nizhoniigo no hey way nay
Nizhoniigo no hey nay
Nizhoniigo no hey way nay
–Joy Harjo, Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings: Poems, Pg 25-26
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