The Death of Sitting Bear: New and Selected Poems

by N. Scott Momaday

The Night Sky at Coppermine At Coppermine we landed in order to take on fuel. We had come down from Holman Island and were on our way to Yellowknife. It was the middle of the night. The plane seated ten or twelve passengers, as I recall, but there were only five on board. We had been buffeted about in the wind and snow, and I was feeling the effects. I did not feel like moving from my seat, but at the same time I thought that a blast of cold fresh air might do me good, and I could at least stretch my legs. When I came to the door, the wind was rushing in with such force that I was nearly knocked backward. I braced myself and struggled out on the stairway. Then my breath caught in my throat. The Northern Lights were hanging, roiling, whipping on the sky, descending squarely upon me. The shock of this magnificent light show was greater than that of the icy wind, and I was stunned again. But nothing could distract me from what I was seeing: the snowy night sky unraveling into great ribbons of dancing color. I had seen the Northern Lights before, but they were never like these. It was an event of great spiritual moment, such as children know in their wonder and innocence. It was Christmas in the universe.