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The On Being Project

“Isle of Mull, Scotland”

Because by now we know everything is not so green elsewhere.

The cities tied their nooses around our necks,
 we let them without even seeing.

Not even feeling our breath soften
 as clumps of shed wool scattered across days.

Not even. This even-ing, balance beam of light on green,
 the widely lifted land, resonance of moor
 winding down to water, the full of it. Days of cows
 and sheep bending their heads.

We walked where the ancient pier juts into the sea.
 Stood on the rim of the pool, by the circle
 of black boulders. No one saw we were there
 and everyone who had ever been there
 stood silently in air.

Where else do we ever have to go, and why?

This poem is excerpted with permission from Naomi Shihab Nye’s collection of poetry, You & Yours. For more poetry, visit our Poetry Radio Project.

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