Remember

~ after Joy Harjo


Remember your last name,
where that thread came from,
connecting you to the one who came
before, and the one even farther back.
Remember your middle name,
the one that tied you to the womb
before the cord was clamped at two
ends and cut, then the flash of light
and your mouth opening into its first
cry. And remember your first name,
how someone plucked it out of a page
perhaps, or a list, or a story with
a face a mouth a nose upturned 
like yours, eyebrows whose crests 
touched a universe of hopes. 
Remember all your names now, 
for the moment you'll stand 
in a window well trying to remember 
how you're called, how to call.