the poems: naomi shihab nye & heather christie

writing on reading poetry

My journal practice consists of two parts. At the beginning of my notebook, I write word vomit full of daydreams, self-absorbed insights, redundant worries, and outdated grocery store lists. In the back, I collect poems I love. The notebook is done when the two parts meet in the middle.

I’ve been missing the practice lately. 2024 was a year of incredible growth (see here) as well as wearisome times (having a baby, parents separating after 37 years of marriage, postpartum depression, work return struggles, general world terror etc etc etc…). Poetry always brings me back to my body. Yes please.

In that vein, here are two poems for me. For you. Right now.

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Missing the Boat
by Naomi Shihab Nye

It is not so much that the boat passed
and you failed to notice it.
It is more like the boat stopped
directly outside your bedroom window,
the captain blowing the signal-horn,
the band playing a rousing march.

The boat shouted, waving bright flags,
its silver hull blinding in the sunlight.

But you had this idea you were going by train.
You kept checking the time-table,
digging for tracks.
And the boat got tired of you,
so tired it pulled up the anchor
and raised the ramp.

The boat bobbed into the distance,
shrinking like a toy—
at which point you probably realized
you had always loved the sea.

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Suggested Donation
by Heather Christie

In the morning I drink
coffee until I can see
a way to love life
again. It’s okay, there’s
no difference between
flying and thinking
you’re flying until
you land. Somehow
I own like six nail clippers
and I honestly can’t
remember ever buying
even one. My sister
came to visit and
saw them in a small
wooden bowl. I
heard her laughing in
the bathroom. I hope
she never dies. There’s
no harm in hoping
until you land.
The deer are awake.
Is one pregnant?
If they kept diaries
the first entry would
read: Was born
Was licked
Tried walking
Then they’d walk
away and no second
entry would ever exist.
I run the deer’s
archive. It’s very
light work. Visitors
must surrender
their belongings.
Surrender to me
your beautiful shirt.