So we sat, and the waves
crashed in like gifts, or insults,
and the children played,
digging trenches to defend
against the sea, and then a head
bobbed up and down
in the waves, a bit too far out,
and an arm waved, and again,
and a friend walked the beach,
waving the head in, and we sat
and said to each other
do you know that Stevie Smith
poem, not waving but drowning �
yes, and why is it still
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Your Life Is a Poem
In the new episode of ON BEING, " Your Life Is a Poem ," poet Naomi Shihab Nye talks about growing up in Ferguson, Missouri and o...
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