The Attic and Its Nails by Naomi Shihab Nye
"It’s hard up there. You dig in a box for whatever the moment requires: sweater, wreath, the other half of the walky-talky, and find twelve things you forgot about
The Art of Disappearing by Naomi Shihab Nye
1. Everybody is asking me why I am not myself. I want to laugh—I haven't been myself for quite some time now. Let's try a few years, even. There's been a lot of debate inside my head where I currently am,
Negotiations with a Volcano by Naomi Shihab Nye
1. I woke up this morning in tears, the wisps of a dream leaving me softly. Disoriented, I had trouble deciphering where I was, in the dark. I thought I was back again in a deep pit where no one can
Burning the Old Year by Naomi Shihab Nye
I promised myself I would do better. If there's a promise to keep this year, it would be this. Also, maybe: to love myself more, which is something all of us should do, really. To love the self, because one
Trying to Name What Doesn’t Change by Naomi Shihab Nye
What brought you here today? Was it because of all the sad poems? Was it because of the stupid movie? Wasn't it because of cruelty? Love is cruel, savage, brutal, barbarous, vicious. Was it love that brought you here? Were
The Traveling Onion by Naomi Shihab Nye
I've barely had any sleep for the past three days. There are only power naps and closing my eyes for a few seconds, before I am spurred back into action, deadlines breathing down my neck. The only breaks I have
Making A Fist by Naomi Shihab Nye
In these last few days that I've been so sick, I've thought about so many things, but most especially about dying. My body has been made a stranger, and I felt extremely powerless. Time and time again I tried making
The Rider by Naomi Shihab Nye
Hello, weekend. Crossing my fingers I get to write and not go back to my desk to work. Or maybe I should go out and see some friends, just to keep the melancholy at bay. A few days ago I
Yellow Glove by Naomi Shihab Nye
Was writing an article for a client, talking about yellow things, looking at yellow photos, and remembering the time when yellow was my favourite color. Maybe I should go back to loving yellow. Maybe everything will look happier to me. Yellow
Hidden by Naomi Shihab Nye
Kindred spirits. Found this little gem, remembered a poem I wrote: Hidden Naomi Shihab Nye If you place a fern under a stone the next day it will be nearly invisible as if the stone has swallowed it. If you tuck the name of a loved one under your