𐓐𐓎𐓍𐒰
In school I learned to say Koran, like I learned to say Osage.
When I hear Qur’an, I understand I am closer to truth.
When I hear 𐓐𐓎𐓍𐒰, I know I am closer to the mottled eagle
sailing low over the ferry sliding across the slough, closer
to the bowl of nest in a cottonwood, a white-headed parent above.
𐓐 looks like a talon, 𐓐𐓎𐓍𐒰 the sound of an eagle rising.
I am 𐓐𐓎𐓍𐒰 chasing an osprey. 𐓐𐓎𐓍𐒰 curled beak tearing fish.
I am salmon in translucent green.
When Bill says, 𐓀𐒰͘𐒼𐒰𐓆𐒰 𐓈𐓂𐒷 𐓇𐒼𐓂͘𐓇𐓈𐒰? and I understand, a blaze.
In his eighties, Mogri murmurs 𐓏𐒰𐓓𐒰𐓓𐒷 𐒻𐒷,
says you—you can’t think of it like English. There’s
a different concept in Osage. When he says, you—
you all are doing real good, he holds the broken in me.
Notes:
This poem appeared in print under the title 𐓂𐓐𐓈𐒰. The spelling has been corrected for the online publication at the poet’s request.