Dirt Toes
Dirt Toes Podcast
One more poem, and thank you
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One more poem, and thank you

"Every day as a wide field, every page" by Naomi Shihab Nye

Dear friends,

Sharing one last poem (for now) to close our month of Love Poems. It has been a comfort to me sharing these poems I love. And it has been so sweet to connect with you, through the worlds of the poems. Thank you to the poets and their words, which acted as portals, blankets, nourishment, vibration for my bones, flowers for my brain. And thank you to you for reading or listening to them. It really did soften the loneliness of this time, just a little. I am grateful.

Starting now, this newsletter will be much less frequent, no more than once/week, probably closer to once or twice/month. I still have many poems I would love to share that didn’t happen to flow into this particular month. Some other things that will likely be included:

  • art I come across and want to experience with other people

  • opportunities to support mutual aid, abolition, and other communal care

  • upcoming practices and projects I’ll be sharing, if you’d like to join

  • photos of Thames, my cat?

I would also love for this to be a place to continue to connect. If you have a poem or book you can’t stop thinking about, if there’s an organization you want to uplift, if there’s a podcast or tv show you’ve been obsessed with, please send it my way. It has, no exaggeration, flooded my body with joy to get emails this month telling me you liked a poem and just wanted to say hi.

That’s it for now. If you’d like to re-visit any poems from the month, they’re archived here.

Much love, Hope


Every day as a wide field, every page
by Naomi Shihab Nye

1

Standing outside
staring at a tree
gentles our eyes

We cheer
to see fireflies
winking again

Where have our friends been
all the long hours?
Minds stretching

beyond the field
become
their own skies

Windows   doors
grow more
important

Look through a word
swing that sentence
wide open

Kneeling outside
to find
sturdy green

glistening blossoms
under the breeze
that carries us silently

2

And there were so many more poems to read!
Countless friends to listen to.
We didn’t have to be in the same room—
the great modern magic.
Everywhere together now.
Even scared together now
from all points of the globe
which lessened it somehow.
Hopeful together too, exchanging
winks in the dark, the little lights blinking.
When your hope shrinks
you might feel the hope of
someone far away lifting you up.
Hope is the thing ...
Hope was always the thing!
What else did we give each other
from such distances?
Breath of syllables,
sing to me from your balcony
please! Befriend me
in the deep space.
When you paused for a poem
it could reshape the day
you had just been living.

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Dirt Toes
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Yoga, Art, Questions, Hope
For the month of February, a poem a day
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