Poem of the Week, by Naomi Shihab Nye
Friends! There is so, so, so much work ahead of us to reclaim even a small amount of what has been so wantonly and cruelly destroyed in the last two years, but as of Tuesday night I feel more hopeful than I’ve felt in years. Grateful for and proud of my fellow citizens.
Shoulders, by Naomi Shihab Nye
A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.
No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.
This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.
His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream
deep inside him.
We’re not going to be able
to live in this world
if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
with one another.
The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.
Click here for more information about the iconic Naomi Shihab Nye. Today’s poem is from her collection Red Suitcase, published in 1994 by BOA Editions.
Photo by Jim Walsh, Minneapolis.
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