The Piano Juries are to Blame (Noetic singing, Diné language)

please forgive my familiarity. when God speaks.

the olibian jury came to meet me
singing shards for the poor and heart-ridden
like a line-loosened message
that was neither a passage nor torn

but the moment I met Him
I tended to this music’s breakage
that we are the invaders
and that they have endured

it is of this surface that flies in the gregarious wind
that will certainly see us pass as they grow
the peoples of the sacred land, now and every tense
will be given back the sky and soil, for twine-ran time and stone
land that God helped lead them to, assuring they had the measures
God stated, “they did most of the work,” stern that I get the language,
the memory, of these aisles of generations, sung low, but high to the shores –
that His people are not limited by meeting God according to their expectations