I had another poem ready to publish today, but in light of the events in Charlotteville this weekend, I just felt like I wanted to think on this one a little bit. It is one of my favorites. When the balance seems so tipped in the direction of evil, I think about how each of us is responsible for carrying the weight of our own peace and placing it on the scale in whatever way we can. Naomi Shihab Nye did this with her words and I take comfort in them.
Kindness
By Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.
Maria, would it be acceptable to you to allow me to post your poem on Facebook for some of our special friends to read? We have a very talented and artistic friend named Mike Holdinghouse. He would appreciate this so much.
He used to teach for Jim at Francis Howell. He is now retired from that but still teaches through music, art and thoughtful discourse. I think you and he are kindred spirits.
Of course, Nettie. Of course, this is not my poem, though. It was written by Naomi Shihab Nye. I don’t think I know Mike, but is he a brother to Dan? We know Dan and Laura.
perfect.
Before you know….you must lose things: Mark Twain: (on sorrow on the death of his daughter) ” I did know that Susy was part of us; I did NOT know that she could go away; I did not know that she could go away, and take our lives with her, yet leave our dull bodies behind. And I did not know what she was. To me she was but treasure in the bank; the amount known, the need to look at it daily, handle it,weigh it,count it,REALIZE IT, not necessary. And now that I would do it,it is too late; they tell me it is not there ,has vanished away in a night, the bank is broken, my fortune gone, I am a pauper. How am I to comprehend this? How am I to HAVE IT? Why am I robbed and who is benefited? You have seen the whole voyage. You have seen us go to sea, a cloud of sail, and the flag at the peak; and you see us now, chartless, adrift–derelicts; battered, waterlogged, our sails a ruck of rags, our pride gone. For it is gone. And there is nothing in its’ place. The vanity of life was all we had,and there is no more vanity left in us. We are even ashamed of that we had; ashamed that we trusted the promises of life and builded too high–to come to this! “
So sad and touching. What a writer he was! Really unbelievable how he can capture those feelings with words.
Thank you for sharing that with me, Sharon.