This week I’m handing over the lesson to the wonderfully gifted poet, Naomi Shihab Nye, who has a better understanding of the nature of fame than anyone I know:
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the bird house.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it,
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing the streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiles back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot who it could be.
Who can you be? Our writing assignment on the Home Page this week is going to ask us to find out just who we can be, and what we can be famous for. As always, have fun with it, and remember to just keep writing.
Peace and blessings.