Naomi Shihab Nye
Naomi Shihab Nye
Naomi Shihab Nyeis a poet, songwriter, and novelist. She was born to a Palestinian father and an American mother. Although she calls herself a "wandering poet", she refers to San Antonio as her home. She says a visit to her grandmother in the village of Sinjil was a life-changing experience. Nye was the recipient of the 2013 NSK Neustadt Prize for Children's Literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth12 March 1952
CountryUnited States of America
hurricanes sometimes save-me
Because sometimes I live in a hurricane of words and not one of them can save me.
love-you writing thinking
I'm writing mostly to thank you for living you eighty years and to tell you I love you and think of you often.
thinking years wind
I Still Have Everything You Gave Me It is dusty on the edges. It is slightly rotten. I guard it without thinking. I focus on it once a year when I shake it out in the wind. I do not ache. I would not trade.
people support body
I support all people on earth who have bodies like and unlike my body...
brother revenge war
My father was very disappointed by war and fighting. And he thought language could help us out of cycles of revenge and animosity. And so, as a journalist, he always found himself asking lots of questions and trying to gather information. He was always very clear to underscore the fact that Jewish people and Arab people were brother and sister.
art feelings disappear
you will never catch up. Walk around feeling like a leaf know you could tumble at any second. Then decide what to do with your time. --The Art of Disappearing
fire light tongue
Poetry [is] more necessary than ever as a fire to light our tongues.
dust littles bits
We start out as little bits of disconnected dust.
world want
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
thinking said projects
We all find ourselves involved in projects or activities that confound us-when or why did I say I would do this? What was I thinking? I needed a poem for myself that said-pause longer. Think again.
clouds bird tree
The thousands small birds of January in their smooth soaring cloud finding the trees.
dream memories grief
For you who came so far; for you who held out, wearing a black scarf to signify grief; for you who believe true love can find you amidst this atlas of tears linking one town to its own memory of mortar, when it was still a dream to be built and people moved there, believing, and someone with sky and birds in his heart said this would be a good place for a park.
children father playing-games
like our parents always told us not to like firefighters warn against we're playing games and making the rules up as we go we're matching warmth to warmth starting fires burning wishes into our skin we're hidden holding forbidden lights we're children whose fathers have never taught never touch but we're finding these new flames we smother at the sound of footsteps.
views people world
What did exclusivity ever have to offer but a distorted, unrealistic view of the world? People who stuck only to their own kind were scared people.