Poem. Poet. Prompt.

The most powerful poems lead (or startle) us into recognition—giving us scenery that is familiar, a dilemma like one we have experienced (or avoided), and a turn when we least expect it, as they reveal truth! In that, we see ourselves in the mirror of someone else’s words! After many years as a poet, my bookshelves are full of that kind of poetry in hundreds of collections and anthologies. I want to share it!

This Substack series, Poet. Poem. Prompt., will consist of monthly invitations to explore extraordinary poems by outstanding poets whom I love and most of whom I have met. Each post will focus on a single poem exploring craft, beauty, and impact. After a close read and appreciation of the poem, I will introduce you to the author and recommend other delights in their writings. Finally, I will give you a writing prompt inspired by the poem or the poet, a directions that I hope will lead you to write your own magnificent poems.

In this first post, I am thrilled to share the fabulously popular poem, “Kindness” (from Different Ways to Pray), with permission from my dear friend, poet Naomi Shihab Nye. More about this astounding woman later.

For now, THE POEM.

                  KINDNESS
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
                         Colombia

CLOSE READ

Let’s take a close look at the poem itself. First, stop and reread it closer looking for hints of how and why it affected you.

Now, notice that the poet has chosen the 2nd person (You) perspective to require us to enter the poem. And immediately, hear the speaker suggest we don’t really know what kindness is. That comes as a questionable surprise!

Then, to make sure we are part of the world of this offered lesson, the poem hints and a post-script confirms that the setting is Colombia. But how does she “show” us that? Look at her rich vocabulary! Phrases like weakened broth, desolate landscape, maize and chicken, bus…passengers, dead by the side of the road, the thread of all the sorrows — these place us in unfamiliar, uncertain territories. We feel sad, a bit on edge.

Next, we are instructed about the importance of travel in seeing others as ourselves, of ourselves as others. We start to comprehend how close we all are to unexpected trouble, even death. We wonder about our own safety. Suddenly, the poet turns the poem to personify Kindness raising its head to call to us! Relieved, we want to answer, Here I am!

The closing strophe weaves a beautiful cloth of the two words sorrow and kindness, adding in other sounds and allusions like deepest, crowd, bread, shadow to hold onto to us, until we reach the safehouse of friend.

Several years ago, I wrote a poem for a poets’ celebration of Naomi’s genius. In it, I included snippets from several of her poems and closed with that last phrase (one I often use to comfort myself), kindness follows us like a shadow or a friend. Many readers and poets have told me those words cling to them, too.

I hope you enjoyed this lovely poem and that your heart feels startled, so that at a gut level, you have come to recognize how violence and tragedy underscore the gift that kindness is. The story behind the poem is that Naomi was traveling in Colombia on a bus when they were attacked by marauders. The poem’s images came from that experience. In Naomi fashion, she moved beyond fear and anger to find the humane wisdom in recalling it.

There is so much more to the poem. Besides my brief observations, what do you notice or appreciate about it?

THE POET

Now, meet the poet. Naomi Shihab Nye is a San Antonio, Texas, poet of Palestinian heritage. She grew up in the U.S. but has vivid memories of visiting her grandmother in Palestine, and many of her writings and politics are based on that family background. Her devotion to humane living, to peace, to children, and to poetry and poets is legendary. She is a friend to everyone and counted as a saint by other poets. I have known and loved her here in Texas forever.

Naomi has written and edited dozens of collections and anthologies, given presentations in hundreds of schools, talked to poet gatherings for decades, and spoken around the world. Other of my favorites of her poems are “Famous” (Hugging the Jukebox), “Making a Fist” (Everything Comes Next), “The Lie” (Grace Notes), “How Long Peace Takes” (19 Varieties of Gazelle), and “The Rider” (Fuel). All her books are treasures.

THE PROMPT

Just above, I mentioned the poem, “The Lie.” It is, like so many poems of Naomi’s, the revelation of a moment of deep emotion with the counterpoint of what wisdom or strength she took away from it. In it, a mother takes her daughter to a hair salon for “a trim” and then secretly has the stylist instead cut the hair short. The speaker, and in this case Naomi herself, closes by saying that after that she wore her hair in a long braid draped over her shoulder for the rest of her life, which she has! I had a similar experience as a preteen, so the poem brings me to tears every time.

Experiences like this are a poet’s treasure because we can reconsider a memory in the distance of time, though often with our hearts still raw. As storytellers, we can craft (change!) the particulars for impact, and as poets we can give gestures, actions, and events new meaning! We can also invite readers to see themselves in our poems by choosing emotions most people share. What is a remembrance of yours that still conjures vivid emotions or that has changed your thoughts about your personage, your character, your beliefs, or your choices? Could it become a poem?

You might follow a common poetic pattern, one Naomi uses often, of quickly pulling the reader into a moment, and then just past halfway through the poem, turning the reader towards who or what changed because of it.

I can’t wait to hear where this prompt sends you — and I hope you will read more of the exhortations to peace that are the signature of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poems.

Until next time, keep writing and putting your words to work for a better world!