There are two poems that I would keep under my pillow if I were in the habit of doing that. As it is, I have them pinned to the noticeboard in my study and below are my favourite fragments from them. They seem to speak my words, my thoughts, my heart (but so much better than I ever could). The first one I discovered a long time ago, as a teenager; the second one I came across only a few months ago, but it sparked my creative renaissance. The sentiments seem to lie at opposite ends of the spectrum. Yet, we all have contradictions within ourselves, don’t we?
find another city better than this one’.
You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You’ll walk the same streets, grow old
int he same neighbourhoods, turn grey in these same houses.
You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there’s no ship for you, there’s no road.
Now that you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world.
When they say Don’t I know you?
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
If they say we should get together.
It’s not that you don’t love them any more.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
(Naomi Shihab Nye)