The Art of Disappearing
When they say Don't I know you?
say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say We should get together
say why?
It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
Naomi Shihab Nye
I discovered Naomi Shihab Nye during spring break of my sophomore year of college. I had just picked up Bill Moyer's The Language of Life and she was one of the poets included. It was love at first read sitting on the floor in the Houston airport. (That was an interesting trip...Minneapolis to Houston to Seattle to Portland...and back again.)
While in Portland I wandered into the Looking Glass Bookstore (which sadly no longer exists) and picked up an autographed collection of Nye's poems, Words Under the Words. There are so many poems in that collection that resonated deep within me. She was a student of William Stafford's (whose work will appear later this month) and had worked at Lewis & Clark. I kept dreaming of another life and another time when I could have been one of her students.
It wasn't until a few years after college that I got to see her read.
She is probably one of my top favorite poets of all the poets and choosing one poem of hers to represent this National Poetry Month series was incredibly difficult. In the end, I chose one of my first favorites. I love the entire poem, but that last stanza hits me in the gut every time.
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