Okay, so it's the middle of the day

In 1996, I was an undergraduate at West Texas A&M University. I took a general survey course on World Literature. Every day, I was becoming more determined to be an English major, and possibly do graduate work. When we read this poem in that course, I became a little more certain. Not completely certain, but closer to the idea of perhaps one day being a writer/academic myself. Beyond all those logistics was the simple reality that I loved this work. I loved the words, the sentiment, everything.

"There is No Word for Goodbye"

Sokoya, I said, looking through
the net of wrinkles into
wise black pools
of her eyes.

What do you say in Athabaskan
when you leave each other?
What is the word
for goodbye?

A shade of feeling rippled
the wind-tamed 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,
but if you don't
we'll see you some place else.
You understand.
There is no word for goodbye.

-- Mary TallMountain