Dance Practice

Fannie Akpik
leads her dance group
at the high school hallway in Utqiagvik.
Voice
clear as a loon's call,
tender
as the warm center of the lagoon where dreams come to surface.
Songs erupted from the Qargi,
flash in the dark,
piece of the moon bitten off,
landing at the tip of the drum stick.
Sealgut covering of prayers
whirring like wind slipping into tied-up hoods.
Whalers come home
to their Elders' voices,
their hands that shape sod and clear snowy pathways,
enunciating real people sounds that shiver
on the tunnel between the heart and throat.

Subscribe to the Poem-a-Day Podcast 

  

“Several years ago, I visited Utqiaġvik, at the top of circumpolar north. In the school halls, Inupiaq Elder Fannie Akpik led a dance practice of Inupiaq songs and dances. Knowing that I am a poet, one of the dancers requested I write a poem for the occasion. Out of gratitude for Fannie and the people of Utqiaġvik, I decided to honor the request.”
—Ishmael Angaluuk Hope