Mad by Naomi Shihab Nye
This afternoon I loafed around the house with the fam. My mom had to iron my dad’s shirts, so I entertained her by reading poetry. I was certainly not mad at her today, but this poem reminded me of when I was a child and decided everyone hated me so I “ran away.” I hid in the woods for about half an hour and came back after no one came looking for me. (ha!) The truth is that my mother is amazing and she really “knows me so well.”
Mad
By Naomi Shihab Nye
I got mad at my mother
so I flew to the moon.
I could still see our house
so little in the distance
with its pointed roof.
My mother stood in the front yard
like a pin dot
searching for me.
She looked left and right for me.
She looked deep and far.
Then I whistled and she tipped her head.
It gets cold at night on the moon.
My mother sent up a silver thread
for me to slide down on.
She knows me so well.
She knows I like silver.
