poetry wednesday : before the weather changes.
Snow
Once with my scarf knotted over my mouth
I lumbered into a storm of snow up the long hill
and did not know where I was going except to the top of it.
In those days we went out like that.
Even children went out like that.
Someone was crying hard at home again,
raging blizzard of sobs.
I dragged the sled by its rope,
which we normally did not do
when snow was coming down so hard,
pulling my brother whom I called by our secret name
as if we could be other people under the skin.
The snow bit into my face, prickling the rim
of the head where the hair starts coming out.
And it was a big one. It would come down and down
for days. People would dig their cars out like potatoes.
How are you doing back there? I shouted,
and he said Fine, I’m doing fine,
in the sunniest voice he could muster
and I think I should love him more today
for having used it.
At the top we turned and he slid down,
steering himself with the rope gripped in
his mittened hands. I stumbled behind
sinking deeply, shouting Ho! Look at him go!
as if we were having a good time.
Alone on the hill. That was the deepest
I ever went into the snow. Now I think of it
when I stare at paper or into silences
between human beings. The drifting
accumulation. A father goes months
without speaking to his son.
How there can be a place
so cold any movement saves you.
Ho! You bang your hands together,
stomp your feet. The father could die!
The son! Before the weather changes.
Naomi Shihab Nye was brought into my life by my friend, Catherine Faherty. My thanks, Catherine. Once, a few years ago, Catherine called Naomi Shihab Nye to tell her that a friend was dying, a friend who often sang songs by Naomi to her children when they were young. Would Naomi sing some of those songs to her friend on her deathbed? And yes, she did.
Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the 12 people I’ve identified as “I would love to talk with them” in 2012 for my new podcast series, “The Recognitions.” I hope she might be able to say yes again. I would love to thank her for her voice in the world, and for her generosity of spirit.
This poem has struck me deeply today. I hope it opens up a space in your heart as well.
[image from here]
