Archive for July 9th, 2009


You find yourself on a street you’ve never
walked, in the town you grew up in
and came back to. The street is a ribbon
on a gift you’ve never opened. You walk the street
and a waft of jasmine fills you, a white cat
crosses your path, and from an open window
you hear the sound of a violin. Garlic
is in the air, and you think of the dish
in your favorite restaurant that you’ve wanted to try
but end up ordering spaghetti.
You go to the restaurant and take a seat
on the other side of the room, by the window,
and order Faraona arrosto al limone. It’s wonderful!
Now you know you’re on to something.
You stroll to your favorite bookstore and find
the poet you keep hearing about
but haven’t read. You buy the book.
You’re a blind man finding Braille. She leads you
through streets you’ve never walked, feeds you words
that taste fresh, full of garlic. You
find yourself. All of a sudden you’ve bungee jumped
into a new life, you want to free fall
with nothing holding you back. You’re ready to walk
that mountain loop you’d always thought too long.
You’re free of something you didn’t know
had a hold of you, like a ghost
you’ve lived with and just found, the haunting over.

~Robert Funge~
what have you lost?
Poems Selected by Naomi Shihab Nye

Read Full Post »