Poetry

Tucson, 1986

I hang out wash on an Arizona morning.
Damp cotton clings cool on my arm.
Wooden pins and curve of rope,
sun yellow dress, dusky rose towels,
underwear bright spots of blue and pink
against the smooth sweep of sheets.

Down the path to the hen-house
I find three eggs under the straw,

        I am a girl of many things;
        I am a girl of sorrows;
        I am a girl of laughs,
        but most of all, I am a girl of curiosity.

I am curious of the world around me, of the world I live in.
I wonder how my younger brother will be when he grows up;

“I don’t want to think about that stuff and I’m not going to write about it either.” John grabbed his backpack and stalked out the door.  I had pushed too hard. It had happened in a moment, and he was gone.

First Day School

We gather the children,
the tender and shy, the mischievous,
lead them to a jagged beach to find
their treasures of stillness
while their own parents settle into
the meetinghouse to gather
Light. We let the children wander
between piers, time dissolving
into moistness. One boy with purple

(for Newton Garver)

Light and Love
To me all holidays
are alike, because
they merge and mean
that what is good
to do on any day
is just more likely
to get done,
such as saying
“I love you!”
to one I might not
otherwise get
around to telling.

After sitting quietly through her memorial service

words spoken

only when moved

through the Spirit

of her compassion, love of family, and good works,

we partook of meticulously wrapped vegan delicacies,

Dear Editor: In appreciation for the May/June theme, “On Limits,” and each writer’s thoughtful response, I offer fresh words penned by Naomi Shihab Nye, a poetic expression of limits. She gives you her permission to publish this poem.

– Judith Favor, Claremont Meeting (PYM)