This last week has been sort of crazy, but just enough that it's gone by fast, not too much that I've been completely stressed. I had 7 meetings (covering pretty much every area I'm involved in), which I guess was what made it extra busy. Then the usual--class, internships, a couple poetry readings. The best activity was a reading by Naomi Shihab Nye, my absolute favorite poet! :) I've never heard her read before, and it was wonderful. In case you're curious, here's a poem by her (I'm attempting to make this blog a bit more than a badly written public journal, in case you can't tell):
Two Countries
Skin remembers how long the years grow
when skin is not touched, a gray tunnel
of singleness, feather lost from the tail
of a bird, swirling onto a step,
swept away by someone who never saw
it was a feather. Skin ate, walked,
slept by itself, knew how to raise a
see-you-later hand. But skin felt
it was never seen, never known as
a land on the map, nose like a city,
hip like a city, gleaming dome of the mosque
and the hundred corridors of cinnamon and rope.
Skin had hope, that's what skin does.
Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.
Love means you breathe in two countries.
And skin remembers--silk, spiny grass,
deep in the pocket that is skin's secret own.
Even now, when skin is not alone,
it remembers being alone and thanks something larger
that there are travelers, that people go places
larger than themselves.
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