He seems to me equal to gods that man / who opposite you / sits and listens close / to your sweet speaking
and lovely laughing — oh it / puts the heart in my chest on wings / for when I look at you, a moment, then no speaking / is left in me
no: tongue breaks, and thin / fire is racing under skin / and in eyes no sight and drumming / fills ears
and cold sweat holds me and shaking / grips me all, greener than grass / I am and dead — or almost / I seem to me.
“
The notion of cyclical time was crucial to Native Americans. For them, sacred events recur again and again in a pattern that repeats the cycles of the celestial sphere.
Time does not progress along a linear path but moves in a cyclical manner so as to provide an enclosure within which events occur.
Past, present, and future all exist together because the cycles turn continually upon themselves.
The progression of time along a developmental path was a concept foreign to Native Americans until the Europeans forced them into history.
“
Joy Williams | “Crazy Injuns”