“Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things…” These words open Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem, Kindness. It’s these precious and devastating words that gave me a foothold as I flailed about in inarticulate grief. I read them while trying to find a solid expression of the inexpressible, how to make something I felt into something I could describe, maybe even understand. Or maybe they found me.
Why Kindness?
Why Kindness?
Why Kindness?
“Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things…” These words open Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem, Kindness. It’s these precious and devastating words that gave me a foothold as I flailed about in inarticulate grief. I read them while trying to find a solid expression of the inexpressible, how to make something I felt into something I could describe, maybe even understand. Or maybe they found me.