Sokoya, I said, looking through
the net of wrinkles into
wise black pools
of her eyes.
What do you
say in Athabascan
when you leave each other?
What is the word
for goodbye?
A shade of
feeling rippled
the wind-tanned skin.
Ah, nothing, she said,
watching the river flash.
She looked
at me close.
We just say, Tlaa. That means,
See you.
We never leave each other.
When does your mouth
say goodbye to your heart?
She touched
me light
as a bluebell.
You forget when you leave us;
you're so small then.
We don't use that word.
We always
think you're coming back, I
but if you don't,
we'll see you some place else.
You understand.
There is no word for goodbye.
Sokoya: Aunt (mother's sister)
Tlaa: See you From Mary TallMountain’s volume of poems The Light on the Wall.
Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990.
