Okay, this is me making a very deliberate effort to expand this beyond a collection of poets half remembered from middle school.
Eye of Cat has never been a personal favorite. It seems like a failure on my part, an inability to meet the book where it is.
I keep thinking of the line from Bilbo's birthday party
I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve
Perhaps when this is all done I'll return to it again for an unprecedented third review.
Eye of Cat, as you will remember, is the novel in which Billy Blackhorse Singer, a retired Navajo tracker, is recruited to protect a political candidate and enlists Cat, a dangerous alien he once captured, on the condition that Cat be allowed to hunt him afterwards.
And I recognize that this is an imperfect summary, because while those are the events that set the plot in motion, I don't think it's fair or accurate to say that's what the book is about. But, whatever. I'm not going to belabor it any further. Either you know what the book is about and a summary is unnecessary or you don't, and in that case it's good enough to give you context for my selection.
I looked all over the place for something suitable, up and down and to and fro, before deciding on A Blessing by Luci Tapahonso.
First a few words on her. She was named the inaugural poet laureate of the Navajo Nation in 2013. Which absolutely blows my mind. 2013 is within my lifetime. It's within the lifetime of my kid. This blog is older than the position of the Poet Laureate of the Navajo Nation.
It seems far to late in history to be establishing the position of poet laureate. If you haven't done it by the time Robert Frost died, then you're probably never going to get around to it. And yet, here it is. And here she is.
I almost went with Sháá Áko Dahjiníleh (Remember the Things They Told Us) but I think the syncretism of A Blessing works better to represent Eye of Cat. There's a deep reverence for tradition in Tapahonso’s voice, yet also a graceful adaptation to the realities of modern life, always on her people’s terms. It reminds me of Zelazny’s note about the Navajo choosing not to use borrowed words for engine parts, instead creating their own language for the machine. Not inherited. Not imposed. Claimed.
This morning we gather in gratitude for all aspects of sacredness:
the air, the warmth of fire, bodies of water, plants, the land,
and all animals and humankind.
We gather to honor our students who have achieved the extraordinary
accomplishment of earning doctoral or master's degrees.
We gather to honor their parents, grandparents, children,
family members, and friends who have traveled with them
on their path to success. They have traveled far distances to be here
this morning: we honor their devotion.
She grew up speaking Navajo, and she writes her poems in Navajo before translating them into English, unlike most other Native American writers. That process gives her work a distinct lyricism I really enjoy. It is not just bilingual; it is bicultural, and the music of the original language still hums beneath every line.