“My father’s hopes travel with me
years after he died. Someday
we will learn how to live. All of us
surviving without violence
never stop dreaming how to cure it.”
More from Naomi Shihab Nye
“So much of any year is flammable, lists of vegetables, partial poems. Orange swirling…”
“How do we continue all these days?”
“I do and don’t love you— isn't that happiness?”
“If you could be anyone, would you choose to be yourself?”