Self-Portrait with Woman on Subway by Hayan Charara
Self-Portrait with Woman on Subway
Hayan ChararaAcross from me she
was crying badly, everyone
around her looking
into their laps trying
to pretend they did not notice.
So unashamed
in her grief she wept
like the N line
was a room in her apartment
and the afternoon
would last forever.
Twenty years on,
I could’ve said something,
anything—
“The red of your scarf
is beautiful.”
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in These Trees, Those Leaves, This Flower, That Fruit by Hayan Charara, published by Milkweed Editions, 2022. (Available direct from Milkweed Editions • Also on: Amazon • Bookshop)
DESCRIPTION
“Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award Finalist
A thoughtful new collection of poems, one that deconstructs the deceptively simple question of what it means to be good—a good person, a good citizen, a good teacher, a good poet, a good father.
With These Trees, Those Leaves, This Flower, That Fruit, Hayan Charara presents readers with a medley of ambitious analyses, written in characteristically wry verse. He takes philosophers to task, jousts with academics, and scrutinizes hollow gestures of empathy, exposing the dangers of thinking ourselves “separate / from [our] thoughts and experiences.” After all, “No work of love / will flourish out of guilt, fear, or hollowness of heart.” But how do we act on fullness of heart? How, knowing as we do that “genocide is inscribed in our earliest and holiest texts”?
Thoughtful but never preachy, Charara sits beside us, granting us access to life’s countless unglamorous dilemmas: crushing a spider when we promised we wouldn’t, nearing madness from a newborn’s weeping, resenting our lovers for what happened in a dream. “Good poems demand to be written from inside the poet,” we are reminded. And that is where we find ourselves here: inside a lively and ethical mind, entertained by Charara’s good company even as goodness challenges us to do more.
“I knew / I envied his rapport with God / and hoped his prayers / would keep my plane aloft.”” (Source)
ABOUT HAYAN CHARARA
The son of Lebanese immigrants, Hayan Charara grew up in Detroit, Michigan. He is a poet, children’s book author, essayist, and editor. He earned a BA in English from Wayne State University, an MA in humanities from New York University, and a PhD in literature and creative writing from the University of Houston. He is the author of the poetry collections The Alchemist’s Diary (2001), The Sadness of Others (2006), Something Sinister (Carnegie Mellon, 2016), and These Trees,… (more)
Read more poems by Hayan Charara • Find books by this poet on Amazon • Bookshop • Website • Or view my library
ENDNOTES
- Explore other works in pursuit of: grief • silence • empathy • Or browse the index
- If this work resonates with you, please consider supporting the archive. Thank you for reading.
ON THIS DAY
Dear Friend
Read A Little Poetry is a passion project of poet T. De Los Reyes. It has been around since 2005. A thriving collection of great poems, this place holds poets to the light alongside experiences of being human.
Thank you for being here—for thinking about words, what they mean, and the weight they hold. This little corner of the world has always been a safe space for all to lean towards vulnerability, to hold on to poems as if anchors, as if wings.
Supported by readers
Join 3,000+ poetry lovers across 20+ countries
Never miss an update by getting poems delivered right to your inbox.
Find a poem
Currently reading
“What if / every time a flower forms in the mind, something gives it away to time?”
Browse older posts
a person in my grief group shares about hummingbirds by Mikey Jones
“do you think they were searching / for my father?” — Mikey Jones
I should get goosebumps more often by Lily Gavazov
“it hurts / to both want and not want something so badly” — Lily Gavazov
“My heart and my flesh sing” by Sean Singer
“Finally I stood there / where no one has ever seen me.” — Sean Singer
Self-Portrait by Mary Oliver
“though I’m not twenty / and won’t be again but ah! seventy. And still / in love with life.” — Mary Oliver
From my notebook
Join us: Poetry gatherings supporting RALP’s 20th year
After 20 years of sharing poems online, we're gathering to read them together—live, across time zones, in community.
20 Years of Poetry
What does it mean to tend something for two decades? I believe with my whole heart that poems matter.
