A Breeze Swept Through

Luci Tapahonso

Luci Tapahonso’s third volume of poetry consolidates her poems of the Diné (Navajo) nation, with recollections of traditional and modern life on and off the reservation. Tapahonso’s ability to be both humorous and hard-edged, Navajo and “American,” has captivated and sometimes bemused Anglo audiences throughout the country.

This collection is one in a series of that express Diné life in its wholeness and sweetness. In this volume, she juxtaposes “Hills Brothers Coffee,” an amusing celebration of her uncle’s coffee addiction, next to “Dear Alvin,” a poem memorializing her dead brother.  

“She presents a wide cast of characters, talking, living, arguing, even dying against the background of a place and a time which are uniquely Native American yet accessible to a wide range of readers.”—Joseph Bruchac

Yes, it was my grandmother
who trained wild horses for pleasure and pay.
People knew of her, saying:
                                                                       She knows how to handle them.
                                                                       Horses obey that woman.

She worked,
skirts flying, hair tied securely in the wind and dust.
She rode those animals hard and was thrown,
time and time again.
She worked until they were meek
and wanting to please.
                                                                        She came home at dusk,
                                                                        tired and dusty,
                                                                        smelling of sweat and horses.

She couldn’t cook,
my father said smiling,
your grandmother hated to cook.

                                                                        Oh Grandmother,
                                                                        who freed me from cooking.
                                                                        Grandmother, you must have made sure
                                                                        I met a man who would not share the kitchen.
                                   
                                                                        I am small like you and
                                                                        do not protect my careless hair
                                                                        from wind or rain—it tangles often,
                                                                        Grandma, and it is wild and untrained.
             —“Yes, It Was My Grandmother”

5½ x 8½ inches • 72 pages • ISBN 0-931122-45-7 • $7.95