PLEASE FORGIVE THIS INTERRUPTION
Please forgive this interruption.
I am forging a career,
a delicate enterprise
of eyes. Yours included.
We will meet at the corner,
you with your sack lunch,
me with my guitar.
We will be wearing our famous street faces,
anonymous as trees.
Suddenly you will see me,
you will blink, hesitant,
then realize I have not looked away.
For one brave second
we will stare
openly
from borderless skins.
This is my salary.
There are no days off.
~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~
Monday’s post, Our First Panniversary, struck a chord for readers, resonating with their own growing pandemic impatience, frustration, grief and weariness. This week, again, reading of lockdowns in Italy, France and Germany; and another white man going on a shooting spree in Atlanta, Georgia, USA, aimed at Asian Americans prompted posting this poem. My reminder to pause, notice, see, and really take you in through my eyes into my heart.
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A Wabi Sabi Life 
May I join you with my guitar? Perhaps you’d prefer the uke or hammered dulcimer? Bongos maybe?
🙂
This piece is a peaceful respite from your previous post…which is stellar, I might add, and speaks what needs to be spoken.
-sweet with the sour makes for a tasteful life (pun intended)-
Play on!
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Any accompaniment would be lovely, Laura. Thank you, Too, for reading and replying. Hear winter has been rearing its head in your parts of late. Kindest regards….
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