I need a song like lightning, just one blaze of insight. A song hurtling from hurricane’s mouth: asnake-charming song, a bullshit-busting song, a shut-up-and-listen-to-the-Creator song.I need a song that rears its head up like Mount Diablo, beacon for the dispossessed.I need a song small enough to fit in my pocket, big enough to wrap around the wide shouldersof my grief, a song with chords raw as cheap rum and a rhythm that beats like magma.I need a song that forgives me. I need a song that forgives my lack of forgiveness.I need a song so terrible that the first note splinters like slate, spits shards out into the universe—yes, that’s the song I need, the right song to accompany your first steps along the Milky Way,song with serrated edges, burnt red rim slicing into the Pacific—the song you taught me, Daddy: howling notes that hit the ghost road hard, never look back.Santa Monica Beach: Alfred Miranda and Deborah Miranda, circa 1963Coyote Takes a Trip“I have substantial evidence that those Indian men who, both here [SantaMiranda, Deborah A.. <i>Bad Indians : A Tribal Memoir</i>. Berkeley: Heyday, 2016. Accessed September 20, 2023. ProQuest Ebook Central.Created from ucsd on 2023-09-20 20:44:19.Copyright © 2016. Heyday. All rights reserved.
In this powerful passage from Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir, Deborah Miranda describes needing a song that can carry her pain, her memories, and her connection to her culture. She repeats “I need a song” to show how deeply she feels this need. The song she imagines is loud, strong, and emotional. It’s both small and personal, but also big enough to hold all her grief. She uses images from nature, like storms, mountains, and fire, to show how intense these feelings are. At the end, she connects the song to her father, showing that this kind of music and strength is something passed down through family. This passage shows how Miranda uses poetic words to talk about healing, identity, and remembering her roots.