by Derek Walcott

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the others welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, ( Read more... )

by Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952

You can’t order a poem like you order a taco.

Walk up to the counter, say, “I’ll take two”

and expect it to be handed back to you

on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.

Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,

write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.

So I’ll tell a secret instead:

poems hide. In the bottoms of ( Read more... )

Good night, babyray86. We weren't close in recent years but you were no less important to me. I went back and read a bunch of your old journal posts today, and now I'm sad about it. Great.

I don't think we get any better at dealing with death no matter how frequently it shows itself. I've certainly been getting a lot of practice.

I'm afraid that ( Read more... )