My Blog

Naomi Shihab Nye 

Tonight I lingered over your name,
the delicate assembly of vowels
a voice inside my head.
You were sleeping when I arrived.
I stood by your bed
and watched the sheets rise gently.
I knew what slant of light
would make you turn over.
It was then I felt
the highways slide out of my hands.
I remembered the old men
in the west side cafe,
dealing dominoes like magical charms.
It was then I knew,
like a woman looking backward,
I could not leave you,
or find anyone I loved more.

Naomi Shihab Nye 

A man leaves the world

and the streets he lived on

grow a little shorter.

One more window dark

in this city, the figs on his branches

will soften for birds.

If we stand quietly enough evenings

there grows a whole company of us

standing quietly together.

overhead loud grackles are claiming their trees 

and the sky which sews and sews, tirelessly sewing,

drops her purple hem.

Each thing in its time, in its place,

it would be nice to think the same about people.

Some people do. They sleep completely,

waking refreshed. Others live in two worlds,

the lost and remembered.

They sleep twice, once for the one who is gone,

once for themselves. They dream thickly,

dream double, they wake from a dream

into another one, they walk the short streets

calling out names, and then they answer.