Simon+Ortiz

Hunger in New York City
Hunger crawls into you from somewhere out of your muscles or the concrete or the land or the wind pushing you.

It comes to you, asking for food, words, wisdom, young memories of places you ate at, drank cold spring water, or held somebody’s hand, or home of the gentle, slow dances, the songs, the strong gods, the world you know.

That is, hunger searches you out. It always asks you, How are you, son? Where are you? Have you eaten well? Have you done what you as a person of our people is supposed to do?

And the concrete of this city, the oily wind, the blazing windows, the shrieks of automation cannot, truly cannot, answer for that hunger although I have hungered, truthfully and honestly, for them to feed myself with.

So I sang to myself quietly: I am feeding myself with the humble presence of all around me; I am feeding myself with your soul, my mother earth; make me cool and humble. Bless me.