I won’t become a doctor.
One day you will be sick.” —
Poem written by an 11 year old Afghan girl
This poem was recorded in a NYT magazine article about female underground poetry groups in Afghanistan. An amazing article about the ways in which women are using a traditional two line poetry form to express their resistance to male oppression, their feelings about love (considered blasphemous), and their doubts about religion.
The Way It Is
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
— William Stafford
keeping time by the thistle
to season weeds and their
a new kind of sparrow
shoots from my fears
chide it into a
cloud of itself
a golden needle
stitches my head to
my knee leaving me
aching along the river
STOP telling me damage can
ameliorate our lives
STOP trying to include
me in your portrait of
quietly dying poets
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.]
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.” —Mary Oliver, from “When I Am Among Trees” (via the-final-sentence)