Poem of the Week, by Faith Shearin
Twin Citians! I’d love to see you at Truth Be Told, an evening of live storytelling to welcome the fall. Date: Sunday, September 27, 7-9 pm Place: New City Center, 3104 16th Ave S, Minneapolis, MN 55407 Theme: Stellar storytellers sharing true personal stories on the theme of “Connection” Cost: Free! A goodwill offering will be split between the storytellers and Sisters’ Camelot, a local food justice nonprofit

Most nights now I sit on the floor for a couple of hours, surrounded by old sagging boxes, reading all the letters and cards I’ve saved from high school on.
I’ve avoided this job for decades. It’s always felt like too much, too much, too much. Then I randomly decided to call it the Gratitude and Blessings Project, and a switch instantly flipped. Oh my beautiful friends, here you are again, with your inimitable handwriting.
Look at the thousands of letters, no exaggeration, from my word-loving mother, and the few from my non-writer father, like the one on yellow legal paper in which he “wholeheartedly endorsed” my plan to become a novelist. “If it doesn’t work out there are a zillion other options and you will find them, Alison.” Astonishing words from a Depression baby who wanted only stability and security.
All these decades-ago missives, full of secrets and dreams and longing and laughter. All our young selves shimmering up from the pages. All the times and ways we loved each other, all the hallways that lead back to those rooms.
Directions to Your College Dorm, by Faith Shearin
All hallways still lead to that room
with its ceiling so high it might have been
a sky, and your metal bed by the window,
and your crate of books. First,
you must walk across the deep
winter campus to find your friend
throwing snowballs that float
for years. Then, open our letters:
shelves of words. You will find
our coats, our awkwardness, the tickets
from the trains that witnessed
our confusion. Love was the place
where we became as naked
as morning; it was dangerous and
dappled and we visited its shores
with suitcases and maps from childhood.
I remember our shadows growing
on your wall while a candle
swallowed itself. You kept a single
glass of water on a desk and it trembled
whenever we danced.
Click here for more information about Faith Shearin.
alisonmcghee.com
Words by Winter (my poetry podcast)