Navarre Scott Momaday Poems

I am a feather on the bright sky
I am the blue horse that runs in the plain
I am the fish that rolls, shining, in the water
I am the shadow that follows a child
...

Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon
the remembered earth, I believe. He ought to give himself up
to a particular landscape in his experience, to look at it from
as many angles as he can, to wonder about it, to dwell upon
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The eagle is my power,
And my fan is an eagle.
It is strong and beautiful
In my hand. And it is real.
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I ponder how He died, despairing once.
I've heard the cry subside in vacant skies,
In clearings where no other was. Despair,
Which, in the vibrant wake of utterance,
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How shall we adorn
Recognition with our speech?—
Now the dead firstborn
Will lag in the wake of words.
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What did we say to each other
that now we are as the deer
who walk in single file
with heads high
...