Díí ’Óólyé, This Is What It Means

’Ábínídą́ą́’ nídiishna’.

I awoke this morning.

Shánídíín bee yahídíídláád. Daadilkał ’ąą’ ’ííshłaa.

The sunlight drew ribbons of light on the floor, I opened the door.

Tłóó’go ch’íníyá.

I breathed in the fresh morning air.

 

Shí’ee’ ’éí łeezh bee łíbá sílį́į́’ lá.

My clothes became adorned with dust and dirt.

’Áko t’óó nízhónígo shí ’éé’ bík’ídíídláád.

The Sun ribbons beautifully adorned my clothes.

 

’Áko shí’éé’ ’ashtłájígo t’óó yó’iishch’il dóó nahasdláád lá, ’ámásání bí’éé’ nahalǫǫ, Mrs. Albert bí’éé’ ’ákot’ei łeh.

The left half of my shirt was slightly more wrinkled than the right and ripped and rumpled just like Mrs. Albert’s dress.

’Áko Eban ’éí ’áníits’a’ dóó ch’ééh hádíníísh’į́į́’ nít’éé’ shiiłts’ą́ ’áádóó ’aheeníl’į́į́’.

I heard Evan calling, and then I peered around to see him. His eyes locked onto mine.

 

’Áádóó bích’į’ dah diiyá nít’éé’ shíłchą́ą́’gó t’óó ’áyóó níłchxon.

I walked towards him and his scent became familiar.

Nídę́ę́’ shíbidga’ hashį́įt’é tóó yóísíłkwii k’adę́ę́’ga’ tó ła’ yishdlą́.

I couldn’t keep myself from collapsing and succumbed to the need for water.

 

’Áko shínítsiskees dah diilwod.

I could feel the echoes of life bouncing inside my head.

Díí ’éí biniinaa kǫ́ǫ́ siláagi baa nítsiskeesgó bík’éé’go yínááł.

Not memories, not feelings, but the experience of existing; physical and raw.

T’óó níhidiltáál nahalingo.

It was slowly draining away at each drip, drip, drip of the water behind my head.

 

’Áko doo ’ákǫ́ǫ́ nítsiskees nít’ę́ę́’ sha’át’e’ shíni’ yisdił. Doo ákǫ́ǫ́ ’át’éego nítsiskees nít’ę́ę́’.

I had never been prepared for this; the feelings, the pain, and yet there has never been anything more perfect.

’Áko díísh jį́į́ńáagooísh ’óólyé?

Is this what it means to be alive?

Michael Coan ’Ák’eeshchí is a student at Navajo Technical University.