Naomi Shihab Nye is from Palestine and currently lives in San Antonio Texas. If you have never heard of or read this poet please give her a chance. Her poems are full of beauty and truth.
San Antonio
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Tonight I lingered over your name,
the delicate assembly of vowels
a voice inside my head.
You were sleeping when I arrived.
I stood by your bed
and watched the sheets rise gently.
I knew what slant of light
would make you turn over.
It was then I felt
the highways slide out of my hands.
I remembered the old men
in the west side cafe,
dealing dominoes like magical charms.
It was then I knew,
like a woman looking backward,
I could not leave you,
or find anyone I loved more.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Holy Week
This is the daily meditation from Richard Rohr:
Question of the day: How have you experienced true freedom?
"The greatest among you must behave as if you were the youngest, the leader as if he were the one who serves" (Luke 22:26). That statement is probably the simplest and most powerful one about the Christian definition of authority to be found in all four gospels.
"For who is the greater, the one at table or the one who serves?" The world would say immediately, "The one at table." He says, "Surely, yet, here I am among you as one who serves" (Luke 22:27). Jesus says, in effect, "I'm telling you that the world's way will not work. The essence of true freedom is the freedom to serve other people—to wait upon them."
Question of the day: How have you experienced true freedom?
"The greatest among you must behave as if you were the youngest, the leader as if he were the one who serves" (Luke 22:26). That statement is probably the simplest and most powerful one about the Christian definition of authority to be found in all four gospels.
"For who is the greater, the one at table or the one who serves?" The world would say immediately, "The one at table." He says, "Surely, yet, here I am among you as one who serves" (Luke 22:27). Jesus says, in effect, "I'm telling you that the world's way will not work. The essence of true freedom is the freedom to serve other people—to wait upon them."
Friday, April 3, 2009
April is Poetry Month.
Garrison Kellior offers some insight into the true 'American Dream':
In spring, a person's thoughts naturally turn toward what you would rather be doing than earning a living, and in America this usually means Being An Artist. This is the true American dream. Winning the lottery is a faint hope, becoming a sports hero is a daydream, but publishing poetry is the ambition of one-third of the American people and another third are thinking about writing a memoir. (http://www.salon.com/opinion/keillor/2009/03/25/spring/index.html)
Enjoy!
Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll
T'WAS brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
In spring, a person's thoughts naturally turn toward what you would rather be doing than earning a living, and in America this usually means Being An Artist. This is the true American dream. Winning the lottery is a faint hope, becoming a sports hero is a daydream, but publishing poetry is the ambition of one-third of the American people and another third are thinking about writing a memoir. (http://www.salon.com/opinion/keillor/2009/03/25/spring/index.html)
Enjoy!
Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll
T'WAS brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
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