Because of Libraries We Can Say These Things by Naomi Shihab Nye
I know I’ve said it before (many times probably), but words cannot express how much I love Naomi Shihab Nye’s poetry. I can relate to this poem especially since I’ve been escaping into fiction more and more lately.
Because of Libraries We Can Say These Things
By Naomi Shihab Nye
She is holding the book close to her body,
carrying it home on the cracked sidewalk,
down the tangled hill.
If a dog runs at her again, she will use the book as a shield.
She looked hard among the long lines
of books to find this one.
When they start talking about money,
when the day contains such long and hot places,
she will go inside.
An orange bed is waiting.
Story without corners.
She will have two families.
They will eat at different hours.
She is carrying a book past the fire station
and the five and dime.
What this town has not given her
the book will provide; a sheep,
a wilderness of new solutions.
The book has already lived through its troubles.
The book has a calm cover, a straight spine.
When the step returns to itself,
as the best place for sitting,
and the old men up and down the street
are latching their clippers,
she will not be alone.
She will have a book to open
and open and open.
Her life starts here.
I like this poem too. Ever since I was little I loved libraries, and it is good to get away in a fiction book sometimes. Thank you for posting this poem; I needed it for a class assignment, and I much enjoyed it. I will read it again and again. Thanks!