First Voices
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Day
The crow, who reigns now from the very top of the totem of the Haida Nation, was the grandson of the Great Divine Chief who made the world.
When the crow wept, asking for the moon, which hung from the wall of branches, the grandfather surrendered her to him. The crow threw her up into the sky, through the chimney hole, and burst into tears once more, insisting upon the stars. When he got them, he spread them out around the moon.
Then he cried and stamped his feet and shrieked until the grandfather also surrendered the carved wooden box where he kept the light of day. The Great Divine Chief forbade the crow to take that box from the house. He had decided that the world would live in darkness.
The crow played with the box to the point of distraction, and from the corner of his eye spotted the guards who were guarding it.
Taking advantage of a slip-up, he fled with the box in his beak. The point of his beak was sheered off as he passed through the chimney, and his feathers were burned, which left them black forever.
The crow came to the coastal islands of Canada. He heard human voices and demanded food. They turned him away. He threatened that he would break up the wooden box:
“If day escapes, which I have here under guard, the sky will never darken,” he warned. “Nobody will be able to sleep or keep secrets, and everyone will know who the people are, who the bird is, and who is the beast of the forest.”
They laughed. The crow broke up the box, and light burst upon the universe.
Translation ©2023. Terence Clarke. All rights reserved.
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