“On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend’s life also, in our own, to the world.” – Henry David Thoreau
I met Yazzie when I was seven and she was six. We rubbed noses in the alfalfa field out to the North of the Nenahnezad School and made secret promises to each other. Some I will never reveal. Through the years, we drifted apart and then back together again. We were a mystery to each other. We saw wonder in the world all around us. In September of 1977 when I was sixteen and she was fifteen, we drove out near Burnham Mesa and danced under the stars to an Alice Cooper song. It was our first and last date.
My old friend is gone so quick, without a touch, her breath has skipped. A seal is broken; the spirits move fast, a famous journey on a distant path. Oh, my partner, your lips brushing past, the four winds whirling, a picture still last. My vision, my flame, my Navajo, that warmed me when the night was cold, took me, touched me while stars preformed a mass. We danced so close, that we weaved a cocoon while our bodies touched inside our passions grew. For you made me a ghost, I made one of you too, the sand on my back, while the world was you. Made me a never, never, never, never man, whispering to me “be mine in thought, if only you can.”
For it was back then, so long ago, I became first boy on a sea of sand. And I grew still inside of first girl so true, while the demons hid while the sky turned turquoise blue. Her sheer layered dress, her falling hair, a pathway in time that charts a future shared. Our souls so silent before the beauty we made, below the mesa, while destiny played. For oh, my Yazzie, we are more than flesh, under stars that trail, that seek our breath. For You and I, were I and you, a gasp in laughter, while worlds unglued. A time together when where, was where. Indus crosses meridian, this now September, my Yazzie you are over there.
Just last night as I tried to sleep, my mind so anxious from a week so bleak. I saw you passing just two stars to the right, headed beyond Mercury to a sun so bright. Your gray hair streaming turning black by my sight, and you looked so young like you did that night. And I played some Alice, and I played him loud, for just like back then you assured this old man, we were a constant somehow.
Deb Yazzie was a dear friend of mine from Childhood that left just the other day to travel to where there is no dark valley, just open sky and the best of an enduring mystery in Neverland. – 09.29.2021 – דָּנִיֵּאל