Category Archives: The Liminal Times

Anchors Away

Missing the Boat

It is not so much that the boat passed and you failed to notice it.

It is more like the boat stopping directly outside your bedroom window,

the captain blowing the signal-horn, the band playing a rousing march.

The boat shouted, waving bright flags, its silver hull blinding in the sunlight.

But you had this idea you were going by train.

You kept checking the time-table, digging for tracks.

And the boat got tired of you, so tired it pulled up the anchor and raised the ramp.

The boat bobbed into the distance, shrinking like a toy-

at which point you probably realized you had always loved the sea.

Naomi Shihab-Nye

Hummingbird

My grandmother called me hummingbird,

because of fragile wings,

but you do not have to be strong, she said.

You do not have to carry the weight of the world

on your wings, rushing from flower to flower.

You only have to follow the beat of your heart,

let the air hold you as it always has.

Tell me about the quiet moments, yours,

and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile, the day unfolds.

Meanwhile, light dances on leaves,

flowers open in brief, brilliant bloom,

and the hummingbirds, swift and delicate,

trace their paths through the air.

Whoever you are, no matter how burdened,

the garden offers its quiet to you,

calling you like the hum of wings—

over and over reminding you

of your place in the pulse of life.