Archive for the ‘Naomi Shihab Nye’ Category

He could hear them off in the forest
massive branches breaking:
you are no good, will never be any good.

Sometimes they followed him,
rubbing out his tracks.
They wanted him to get lost
in the world of trees,
stand silently forever, holding up his hands.

At night he watched
the streetlamp’s light
soaking into his lawn.
He could bathe in its cool voice,
roll over to a whole different view.
What made them think
the world’s room was so small?

On the table he laid out his clothes,
arranging the cuffs.
What he said to his enemies
was a window pushed high as it would go.
Come in. Look for me where you think
I am. Then when you can see no one is there,
we can talk.


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