Here is a poem shared in classes recently. It is by Naomi Shihab Nye an American-born poet of Palestinian descent. It was first shared with me by Mary Paffard, a wonderful yoga teacher, who also share it with us in a yoga class.
The Song
By Naomi Shihab Nye
From somewhere
a calm musical note arrives.
You balance it on your tongue,
a single ripe grape,
till your whole body glistens.
In the space between breaths
you apply it to any wound
and the wound heals.
Soon the nights will lengthen,
you will lean into the year
humming like a saw.
You will fill the lamps with kerosene,
knowing somewhere a line breaks,
a city goes black,
people dig for candles in the bottom drawer.
You will be ready. You will use the song like a match.
It will fill your rooms
opening rooms of its own
so you sing, I did not know
my house was this large.