Cento of last lines from Joy Harjo.
what do you make of it a poem another beginning though the war never ended every small struggle there all over again it was a dance we followed to the raw edge of the cliff a terrible music with our wise and ragged bones we go on there at the edge of the world laughing wind blowing centrifugal as we hold each other up together we have always been together it is the whole earth spinning so damned hard it hurts we go on crazily beautifully in the wind in the rain in the beautiful perfume and stink of the world ∎