Early last week, Matthew shared summer, somewhere by Danez Smith, a poem that enveloped me with beauty and melancholy when I first discovered it a little over a year ago. I was glad to be reminded of that beautiful poem this week.
Today, as hail falls from the sky and the ground is covered in a sheet of ice, I thought it would be appropriate to share a few small excerpts from Danez Smith’s beautiful poem:
somewhere, a sun. below, boys brown
as rye play the dozens & ball, jump
in the air & stay there. boys become new
moons, gum-dark on all sides, beg bruise
-blue water to fly, at least tide, at least
spit back a father or two. I won’t get started.
history is what it is. it knows what it did. […]
yesterday, a poplar
told me of old forest
heavy with fruits I’d call uncle
bursting red pulp & set afire,
harvest of dark wind chimes.
after I fell from its limb
it kissed sap into my wound.
do you know what it’s like to live
someplace that loves you back? […]
if you press your ear to the dirt
you can hear it hum, not like it’s filled
with beetles & other low gods
but like a mouth rot with gospel
& other glories. listen to the dirt
crescendo a boy back.
come. celebrate. this
is everyday. every day
holy. everyday high
holiday. everyday new