#weaving sundown in a scarlet light

[lifeinpoetry]

I release you, my beautiful and terrible fear. I release you. You were my beloved and hated twin, but now, I don’t know you as myself. I release you with all the pain I would know at the death of my children.

You are not my blood anymore.

— Joy Harjo, from "I Give You Back," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[melestasflight]

your favorite 9 books read in 2023 thanks for the tag @searchingforserendipity25 and @sallysavestheday

Well damn, my 2023 bookshelf is a mumble jumble. A bit of deep thinking, some nonfiction, and brainless romance. Titles and authors are below the cut.

Tagging @eilinelsghost @imakemywings @welcomingdisaster to give a glimpse into your reading lists if you'd like.

Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula Le Guin

Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light - Joy Harjo

Braiding Sweetgrass - Robin Wall Kimmerer

Paying the Land - Joe Sacco

The Art of War - Sun Tzu

Immune - Philipp Dettmer

Interview with the Vampire - Anne Rice

Beautiful World, Where Are You - Sally Rooney

What If It's Us - Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

[cosmifect]

I AM IT AND IT IS ME — on where you end and the monster begins.

molly mccully brown, places i've taken my body: essays / annihilation ( 2018 ) / stephen crane, in the desert / phoenix chan, ghost heart / georges bataille, blue of noon / fernando evangelio, shadow illustration / shirley jackson, the haunting of hill house / sascha schneider, der astral mensch ( the astral man ) / joy harjo, "running," weaving sundown in a scarlet light

[sam-is-here96]

lately

i’ve turned to the river

to the starlings gathering there at twilight

moon in their throats

all i want is the music

anything

to keep me breathing

this dancing

this whirl of my heart

Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light by Joy Harjo

[mooshroomgirlfriend]

forever amazed that i got to hear her speak at my university <3

[thndrstd]

Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light: Fifty Poems for Fifty Years by Joy Harjo My rating: 5 of 5 stars I have long been a fan of Joy Harjo and this collection of many of her best poems to reflect on her fifty years as one of America's best poets (and the first Native American U.S. Poet Laureate) is a wonderful gift. If you already know her, this is a wonderful review; if not, it is the perfect place to start. Sandra Cisneros provides a warm introduction and Harjo provides some notes at the end about the origins of each poem. Highly recommended. [I received an advanced galley through Netgalley. The book is due out November 1, 2022.] View all my reviews

[blossomoranges]

Crossmarch and Mirai's Search For The Silver Fox

hi everyone! this was part of the @ikesennw‘s secret santa, written for @mitsushide from me. the fic focuses on her character, Mirai, facing her first Christmas in Azuchi posing as a princess of the Nakamura clan. in truth, she’s an undercover agent for the Crimson Lotus, an organisation of women looking to bring down the feudal warlords, and an all-around badass. also, local himbo Yukimura makes a cameo.

read her fabulous series beneath a night sky, vast & wide  for more context!

word count: 1550

pairing: hints of mirai/mitsuhide

Winter had come to Azuchi on swift wings, bringing a chill to the air and a coating of frost on the ground. But this year, the season was different. The Oda’s support of the Western traders had brought a new influx of foreigners to the gates of the town, and with them came stories of strange cultures and traditions. ‘Christmas’, as it came to be known, was a winter festival celebrated by many of these people - a time of feasting and gift giving and togetherness. Nobunaga Oda, with his endless fascination for anything new, had announced a holiday for the citizens of his provinces.

Mirai wasn’t sure what to think of all this. A day off for all the hard-working people of Azuchi was a step in the right direction, but it could just be one of Nobunaga’s passing fancies. There was no guarantee that this festival would become a tradition. Plus, she could barely pronounce the name. Christ-moss? Clip-mass? Whatever.

And just how was she meant to look for openings to rid the land of these warlords when the castle was flooded with people preparing for a banquet? 

Ever since she’d arrived in Owari under the Nakamura banner and the guise of a sickly princess, she’d made sure to document the routines of the six key warlords, but they’d seemingly scattered to the winds. Mirai had caught a glimpse of Masamune Date cooking up a storm in the kitchens, the door to Ieyasu Tokugawa’s office had been barred from the inside, and Mitsuhide Akechi… was nowhere to be found. According to Honoka, he’d last been seen heading out to the town centre. She can’t say that trying to track him down is a wise thing to do - princesses don’t usually go around tailing people. But the sheer volume of people stocking up on winter goods and preparing for this strange festival provided safety in numbers and a golden opportunity to see what the kitsune was getting up to.

So here she is, standing at the edge of a crowded marketplace, attempting to track a man who’d perfected his disappearing act and to blend in all the while. 

If she wasn’t so experienced, she would never be able to find him.  She cleared her mind and focused on the smells, sounds, and sights of the market, and kept pushing forward. Out of the corner of her eye, Mirai sees a swirl of teal and ivory. The chase is on.

He’s a worthy opponent. Mitsuhide ducks, dodges, and weaves through the town with the grace of a heron, while Mirai follows in his tread, slinking just out of sight. She can’t survey him from the rooftops (damn these unwieldy kimono skirts), so she darts into one of the many alleyways to stay out of sight. Their pattern of fox and mouse holds, right until the kitsune stops in his tracks at the very edges of the market, turning to examine a stall surrounded by trinkets and charms. Mirai is a tad surprised - he didn’t seem the type to enjoy frivolity, or anything uninvolved with torture for that matter.

His exchange with the shopkeeper lasts mere moments before he’s off again, out of sight and drifting away like a spirit with questionable taste in clothes. Thus comes an end to her fruitless chase. She needs to head back to the castle soon, anyway. After he had overcome his initial animosity, Hideyoshi seemed convinced that Mirai might drop dead from a cold as soon as the sun sank below the horizon. There was a slim chance he’d be too busy to notice her disappearance, preparing for the banquet and worshipping the ground Nobunaga walked upon, but it wouldn’t do to be questioned. 

The road back to the castle gates was so much more boring without a target to prey upon. The crowds had dissipated a bit as it neared sundown, though some citizens milled about, browsing and discussing the coming winter. The winds were even more chilly, but she kept a measured pace.

There was something glinting in the last rays of the day. Mirai inclined her head towards the source, a blanket laid out with accessories much like the ones that had caught Mitsuhide’s attention. She was in no rush to return to the castle - regardless of the festivities, it was just another night of endless posturing and waiting for openings to strike. Looking at pretty things might suit her disguise. 

She crouched to examine the wares, her eyes drifting over the kanzashi, hairpins, and obi charms. Aha! There was the culprit. A group of silver animals hung upon cords were caught in the light and a tiny fox curled up against its tail rocked gently at the forefront.

“You gonna buy anything? I’m about to close up,” came a rough, unrefined voice. 

Mirai barely spared a glance for the man before responding in a cool tone. 

“I am just admiring your wares, sir.” 

“Well, admire them quicker! I’ve been busy all day with this… Crossmarch nonsense the Oda are putting on. I swear, all you girls are like this.”

He must have been blessed by the gods, because if Mirai didn’t want to blow her cover, she’d have attacked by now. Her newfound acquaintance was dressed head-to-toe in scarlet and his head, clearly empty, was crowned by a mop of brown hair. He also seemed to be the world’s worst spy - six golden coins were emblazoned on his chest, marking him as one of the Sanada. She grasped for the little fox she’d been examining, tucked it into her pouch, and chucked a few coins onto the blanket. Not the best use of Rui’s funds, but needs must when playing a princess.

“Good night, merchant. You may want to use those funds to buy a new kimono. One that’s less conspicuous.”

She glided away from the blanket, taking careful steps, only half-listening to the spluttered retorts of the merchant-warrior. 

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The moon peeks out from behind the heavy clouds to cast her light over the courtyard, lighting it up in splendour, and Azuchi’s newest princess watches in turn. She had broken out in shivers from the frigid air long ago, but the stillness provided a balm for her mind. The banquet had been so loud. The further away she was from crowds of rowdy men, the better - at least Mirai can be herself here under the moon’s watchful gaze. 

The day wasn’t entirely a loss: she’d learnt the layout of the town, confirmed the presence of enemy forces, and managed to find a fox - just not the one she’d set out to catch. Her charm was threaded onto her obi cord, but Mitsuhide was still shrouded in mystery. 

With his wit, guile, and access to information, Japan could be his. So what was his motivation for following a distasteful man like Nobunaga?

The moon slips away at the same moment she feels that something, or someone, lurking in the dark behind her. She’ll have to feign surprise if the presence behind her decides to declare itself, but her thoughts race - everyone has the same primal response to shapeless beings in the dark. Kaede’s words echo across time in her thoughts.

‘You are a warrior, but don’t forget the frightened girl that you were. Your past exists within you, dear Mirai. Use that fear to spur on the strength that will always rest in you.’

The words bring a pang to her heart, but she cannot say whether it is fear or pain or grief. She forces herself to breathe.

“Hello, little mouse.”

She casts an upward glance at the voice’s source. With his white robes shrouded in the pale moonlight, the man could pass for a ghost.

“Good evening, Lord Akechi.”

“Oh, do call me Mitsuhide.” His crescent moon smile is wickedly sharp.

“Mitsuhide, then.”

They remain in silence for a few moments.

“Why is our darling princess out here? You’re missing all the festivities.”

“I prefer quieter company. Everyone in the banquet hall is awfully loud for my tastes.”

“I see. You must be tired from your excursion into town, as well. Such a busy day,” he tuts.

Had he spotted her trailing after him? No matter. There was a challenge in his voice and she would not rise to it. 

“I haven’t had much chance to explore. I had missed seeing new places and people, after being ill for so long.” 

“No need to defend yourself, little mouse. I merely noticed your fetching new charm.” He gestured to the sleeping fox in the centre of her obi.

The kitsune brought something out of his robes and set it beside her, as his other hand rested upon her head. It was a battle for Mirai to resist raising her hackles at him.

“A Christmas present for you. I heard you like this particular bird. Good night, little princess.”

Then Mitsuhide was gone, disappearing down the corridor and leaving silence in his wake. 

The only trace he had left was a bronze statue that fit neatly in her palm. A little quail. Was this a trick or some bizarre act of kindness, or did he really just like seeing her puzzled expression? The mystery surrounding him had grown. Mirai hoped she would get her answers soon, but they would not come on Christmas night.

[howifeltabouthim]

Her own daughter was born, like she had been, in either place or all places, so she could leave, leap into the sound she had always heard, a voice like water, like the gods weaving against sundown in a scarlet light.

Joy Harjo, from She Had Some Horses

[lifeinpoetry]

Be who you are, even if it kills you.

It will. Over and over again, Even as you live.

Break my heart, why don’t you?

— Joy Harjo, from "Break My Heart," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[lifeinpoetry]

— Joy Harjo, from "I Give You Back," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[text id:

I take myself back, fear. You are not my shadow any longer. I won’t hold you in my hands. You can’t live in my eyes, my ears, my voice my belly, or in my heart my heart my heart my heart But come here, fear I am alive and you are so afraid

of dying.]

[lifeinpoetry]

Between sunrise and sunset—

I cannot walk through all realms— I carry a yearning I cannot bear alone in the dark—

What shall I do with all this heartache?

— Joy Harjo, from "Speaking Tree," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[lifeinpoetry]

If these words can do anything if these songs can do anything I say bless this house with stars.

Transfix us with love.

— Joy Harjo, from "The Creation Story," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[lifeinpoetry]

I’m not afraid of love or its consequence of light.

— Joy Harjo, from "The Creation Story," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[lifeinpoetry]

To survive is sometimes a leap into madness. The fingers of saints are still hot from miracles, but can they save themselves?

— Joy Harjo, from "Bird," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[lifeinpoetry]

— Joy Harjo, from "Running," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[text id:

I ran and I ran through the 2 a.m. streets.

It was my way of breaking free. I was anything but history. I was the wind.]

[lifeinpoetry]

— Joy Harjo, from "Running," Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light

[ID: I was afraid of the dark, because then I could see Everything. The truth with its eyes staring Back at me. The mouth of the dark with its shiny moon teeth, No words, just a hiss and a snap. I could hear my heart hurting With my in-the-dark ears. I thought I could take it. /End ID]