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The Sabbath

Nomi Stone

 

Today do nothing as

you usually do. Time is pooling

open. No sorrow in this blue

breathing air. Do not touch

 

the light; do not brush your hair;

do not even speak

 

of what binds you in the week.

You have come here to

learn to be like us, or

not. For now we each inhale our sweet

 

share of sky. We will not release it until

sundown.

 

 

 

 

 

The above poem is an excerpt from Stranger's Notebook (Northwestern University Press, 2008). For more information, please see http://nupress.northwestern.edu

 

A perfectly healthy sentence, it is true, is extremely rare. For the most part we miss the hue and fragrance of the thought; as if we could be satisfied with the dews of the morning or evening without their colors, or the heavens without their azure. - Henry David Thoreau

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