Manny Loley

bik’eh diishaał

dá’ák’ehgoyaa
k’os diłhił dah yists’id
níłtsá biką’ hazlį́į́’
‘atsiniltł’ish na’ałtsxaasgo
na’ashǫ́’ii dich’ízhii yigááł jiní
t’áadoo náhinilyésígo ha’díí’ą’
shábitł’óól shich’į’
dah naadeełgo k’ííníshnizh
‘atsiniltł’ish shich’į’
‘ajííłtsxisgo yíshtą’go k’ííníshti’
t’áá ‘ałah shisálį́į́’
shidziilgo ‘ádashiilaa’
‘akótáo nihookáá’
diyin dine’é
ách’ą́ą́h naasháadoo
‘akót’éego t’i’dilneehii
bik’eh dishdlį́įdoo
ahool’áágóó ‘iiná doo
nídínééshgóó dooleeł

 

i will persist

down at the cornfield
dark clouds suddenly appear
male rain has formed
as lightning scatters all around
horned toad walks calmly about
with no fear, horned toad sings
sunlight scatters around me
and i tear a piece
lightning whips toward me
and i break off a piece
both become a part of me
and make me strong
with these weapons
i will protect the Earth
Surface Holy People
in this way i will overcome
all fear and danger
life will continue forever

Coyote Story

ałk’idą́ą́’ jiní
    Doo Ádíldinii  
    joogááł
               jiní
    yikaiihdą́ą́’
    joogááł
               jiní
    joogááł
              joogááł
                         joogááł
                     jiní
      nidi
shį́įgo doo baa hane’dah

For now, the story must stop.

Outside, sunbeams ribbon
cornfields, each green spine
a meeting place, a chaha’oh.
Wolázhiní in the cornfield.
Tániil’éí in the cornfield.
Nahak’izii in the cornfield.
Wóneeshch’įįdii in the cornfield.
Da’ak’ehgo yił dahasin—
a song to call the inner spirit.
Awake, each corn plant opens
its tassel blooming,
like hands splayed in offering.
Our dreams were born
in the dance of corn tassels
singing I am ready, I am ready
that precedes the dawn
and all our prayers
streaked beyond the brilliant sunrise.
Nizhonígo hayiiłką́
Hayoołkááł biyázhí ání
Hayoołkááł biyázhí binéé’ ahosoolts’ą́ą́’
Hodiyingo adiists’ą́ą́’
Shinaagóó t’áá ałtsohji’ adiists’ą́ą́’

Rainbow Becoming

Shí nááts’íílid nádleehígíí nishłį́. I am rainbow
becoming. Niłtsą́ yáago noodǫ́ǫ́z. Rain striped
in lines above the mesa. Shimá voices a muted
prayer. Her words catch the rain and wind.

My tongue flecked with corn pollen and names
older than this barbed speech. Each syllable
cracked tooth, numbed after the pain. Each sound
hardened in my throat. Saad éí ná’iiłná. Some
times voice isn’t enough.

Da’ak’eh góyaa niłtsą́zhool nida’ajooł. Rain
mists down into cornfield and I feel cool breath
on the nape of my neck. Shí nák’eeshto’ naałtin.
Shimá’s tears shine down her cheeks.

Shicheii béénashniih. Shicheii bóhoohsaa. I still
feel his calm gaze and steady presence. I still
smell morning coffee and wet earth. Shimá inhales
deep, eyes closed. Shiinéé’ clouds from my throat.

Memory budding like álástsíí’ in fields, unfurling
fields of shicheii’s creation story. He said: I drank
my youth away but I learned. He said: ge’ shoo,
íísíníłts’ą́ą́’. Mą’ii ání, bizaad k’ehgo iiná ná’iiłná.

Shimá hands me her tádídíín, the pouch dark
with age. “Prayer and tears soothe the soul,”
she says, and I am a child again. My voice catches
the wind and rain. Shí nááts’íílid nádleehígíí nishłį́.

Manny Loley is ‘Áshįįhi born for Tó Baazhní’ázhí; his maternal grandparents are Tódích’íi’nii and his paternal grandparents are Kinyaa’áanii. Loley is from Casamero Lake, New Mexico. He holds an M.F.A. in fiction from the Institute of American Indian Arts and he is a current Ph.D. candidate in English and literary arts at the University of Denver. Loley is a member of Saad Bee Hózhǫ́: Diné Writers’ Collective and director of the Emerging Diné Writers’ Institute. He is also the program coordinator for Six Directions: Indigenous Creative Writing Program through Lighthouse Writers Workshop in Denver, CO. His work has found homes in Poetry Magazine, Pleaides Magazine, the Massachusetts Review, the Santa Fe Literary Review, the Yellow Medicine Review, and the Diné Reader: an Anthology of Navajo Literature, among others. His writing has been thrice nominated for Pushcart Prizes. Loley is at work on his novel They Collect Rain in Their Palms.

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2022