Dakota

Summary

The poem "Dakota" reflects on the profound beauty of the world, questioning how it can inspire change in personal perspectives and actions towards environmental preservation and cultural understanding.

Abstract

"Dakota" is a contemplative poem that uses vivid imagery to explore the contrast between modern life's disconnection from nature and the intrinsic beauty of the natural world. It ponders the depth of beauty required to shift a self-absorbed individual's focus outward, to care about the future and the impact of human actions on the environment. The poem juxtaposes the narrator's introspection with the enduring resilience of indigenous cultures, who despite witnessing the encroachment of modern civilization, maintain a deep connection to the land. It challenges the reader to consider what it would take to abandon the destructive patterns of contemporary life and to embrace a more harmonious existence with nature, acknowledging the beauty that exists without the need for human observation.

Opinions

The narrator acknowledges their own narcissism and the disconnect from the natural landscapes of the plains, suggesting a need for personal transformation.
There is an expressed concern for the future generations and the legacy left behind, with a nod to the hope and traditions of indigenous peoples.
The poem conveys a desire to connect with nature on a deeper, almost spiritual level, imagining participation in ancient cultural rituals.
It criticizes the modern industrial way of life, symbolized by machinery and destruction, calling for a halt to environmentally harmful practices.
The author implies that admitting past wrongs and embracing the beauty of the world is crucial for a meaningful change in beliefs and actions.
The poem emphasizes that the world's beauty is intrinsic and does not rely on human observation or validation, suggesting that this beauty should be a catalyst for preservation and respect.

A poem of protest

How beautiful must the world be to make me stop and notice I am a narcissist? I’m so far away from the plains, the rolling weeds and sagebrush, dirt-dry plateaus cracked like ancient faces. I’m so far away from open fields stretched equidistant to every inch of the empty and aubergine horizon; the sky seems endless as a child’s imagination, white puffy clouds like floating castles turning purple and gray along the dust bowl rim, with rain shaft ropes tethering those mountainous zeppelins to the Earth.

How beautiful must the world be to make me care about the future my children will live to see? Some hold onto hope like eagle feathers in their hands, have seen the stars through a portal of smoke cloaked in a buffalo’s hide. They have stood for centuries at the edge of a graveyard, watching the white man dig more holes.

How beautiful must the world be to make me want to live here inside its nebular womb? With every breath, the timeline of existence shrinks backward one step. In my heart, I could wear a headdress, I could smell the burnt leaves wafting like spirits around my skull, like voices turned to ashes swirling and sticking to my tongue. I could sing songs around the fire in a language I never learned.

How beautiful must the world be that I shut off these engines of dinosaur teeth, that I throw my hardhat to the ground and climb down from my mechanical cage, that I brush the crushed grit from my jeans and embrace the joyful tears streaming down my face with so many arms around me, welcoming me home like a long lost son, turning to stand in line against something as intangible as time?

How beautiful must the world be that I admit I’ve always been wrong about everything I’ve ever believed? This world must be beautiful, with its birds, its light-flickered murmurations, its ponds with surfaces kissed by hungry fish mouths catching flies. It’s a beauty that never asks to be observed, and that is just what makes it so irreplaceable.