Separation Point

for Shawn Cox

Before she ran into the road

and you arrived where she stood

is the place you cannot get back to,

no matter how often you drive

along the road,

stop again before the spot.

Before she fell into deep black asphalt

and you fell into the line of her life;

before she abandoned the ditch 

of flitting tadpoles, 

and the day dislodged you from your blessings;

before then is what you can’t get back to.

In the after, safety is luck

and the movements of the whirlpool

where cold fingers drag you.

Now darkness gleams, even in the sun, 

and every crease in your face 

lets night in. 

Every hole in the fence post,

dead tree in the ditch,

black cricket in grass.

The sudden blur of her body 

a divide between dark and day;

your heart cries for the horizon, 

and the black road threatens you with secrets,

a small girl running, unexpected, 

into the deepest place.

Mohawk/Kanien’kéha Word of the Week

This week, I wanted to do the word “tired”, because I did not sleep well last night. Here is what you might ask me: “Are you 
tired?” And here is the answer: “Yes!” 

“Tesahwishenhe:ion ken?” “Hen!”

I am not sure if I have the genders right, or if there are genders in Mohawk. There is much to learn.