Joy Harjo's "When the World as We Knew It Ended"

There are many poems in Joy Harjo’s, How We Became Human, that have touched me (See Joy Harjo’s “Raining in Honolulu”). But, as I was flipping through her book the other day, I came across another poem that reminded me how amazing poetry can be. The poem is, “When the World as We Knew It Ended.” This is a post 9/11 poem that captures the feelings of detachment, uncertainty, and alienation that our country felt immediately after the attacks. This poem is beautiful because it invokes our own memories of 9/11, but gives us a sense of hope. I will summarize the poem here by including lines from different sections.

Two towers rose up from the east island of commerce and touched the sky.

Then it went down. Swallowed

by a fire dragon, by oil and fear.

Eaten whole.

And then it was over, this world we had grown to love

for its sweet grasses, for the many-colored horses

and fishes, for the shimmering possibilities

while dreaming.

But then there were the seeds to plant and the babies

who needed milk and comforting, and someone

picked up a guitar or ukulele from the rubble

and began to sing about the light flutter

the kick beneath the skin of the earth

we felt there, beneath us

a warm animal

a song being born between the legs of her,

a poem.

This is such a moving poem because it tells us that we alone have the power to create hope and make things better. 9/11 was a tragedy. But, we still had to wake up the next day and make the world a better place. In many ways, I believe it is our duty as humans to make the world better for the generations that follow us. To me, this idea is part of what this poem is saying. We woke up on 9/12 and wrote a poem, sang a song, raised our young, and persevered.

What I find even more touching about this poem is that it is written by a Native American. Historically, Native Americans have been branded as the “other,” which makes the status quo forget that they are Americans too. That is an odd thing to say because Native Americans are the only people living in this country whose ancestors were not immigrants. But the fact that Joy Harjo wrote this poem is a reminder that we are all in this together, regardless of race or gender.

Joy Harjo's "Raining in Honolulu"

One of my favorite poems in Joy Harjo’s How We Became Human was “Raining in Honolulu,” on page 194. Before I get into why I love this poem, I want to point out a quote that struck me from her introduction. She states, “This earth asks for so little from us human beings.” This is very true. We exist because this earth supports life, bottom line. All we have to do is avoid destroying it in return (which isn’t working out so well). Anyway, this line got me thinking about colonization and how it relates to Harjo’s poem, “Raining in Honolulu.” The last six lines of the poem are as follows:

Rain opens us, like flowers, or earth that has been thirsty for more than a season.

We stop all of our talking, quit thinking, or blowing sax to drink the mystery.

We listen to the breathing beneath our breathing.

This is how the rain became rain, how we became human.

The wetness saturates everything, including the perpetrators of the second overthrow.

We will plant songs where there were curses

I just love how she creates the image that we, along with the earth and everything on it, are drinking the same water. The earth and humans are both living organisms that need water to survive. I also love the second and third lines from above because we, humans, stop whatever it is we are doing and drink water every single day. We stop communicating and thinking for those brief periods of time when we are drinking with the earth. This poem really makes you stop and think about the little things that can be taken for granted very easily.

Yeah, water is water and it’s there. But we drink it and it keeps us alive which is mind blowing when you think about it. Why earth? Why us? Also, I love the “we listen to the breathing beneath our breathing” line. I interpret this as being the wind, which is always there but rarely appreciated. Granted, I don’t know how one can appreciate wind without feeling a little bit foolish. But just the fact that it is there and we feel it is a miracle in itself.

I know I have been rambling with this post but I was kind of blown away with this poem. The last two lines of this poem evoke the colonization of America and theft of American Indian land. The non-violent tone Harjo takes by saying, “We will plant songs where there were curses,” is very admirable. Harjo has a right to be angry and I don’t think anyone would blame her if she vocalized her rage. Yet, she remains an optimist and chooses music to spread her message, which is kind of an organic life form in itself. This is a fantastic poem that I am definitely including in the lessons for my final project.