poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

Somewhere Else

Matthew Shenoda
It is here on this ridge 
exposed to the orange dusk 
of mountain autumn 
that the story begins. 

Buck wood for the stove 
feel the heat of shoulder to tendon 
greet the mule deer 
and water the garden again. 

In rhythm, with song 
when the ax begins to blend with wind
carry on to warmer days 
on the river’s open banks 
where the fervor of healing is found in water. 
Flow from one origin to another--
there is never a place where we cannot begin 
where the current is ancient, the wind is young 
teaching each other like the ax and the wood. 

Carve a place for dignity 
plant a seed and pray for rain 
for sun 
for understanding outside your self. 

There will come a day when they say: 
who do you think you are 
and another day will come 
for you to tell. 

On that day the story will appear 
but do not tell of yourself 

tell the story of the staff that blossomed in the desert
or the one about your enemy’s greatest victory

tell the story of somewhere else

From Somewhere Else by Matthew Shenoda. Copyright © 2005 by Matthew Shenoda. Published by Coffee House Press. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

From Somewhere Else by Matthew Shenoda. Copyright © 2005 by Matthew Shenoda. Published by Coffee House Press. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

Matthew Shenoda

by this poet

poem
Dilapidated clapboard shacks 
piles of bricks in the sand 
scratching at the surface of cohesion

Ingenuity is the notion of building
On a foundation made from loss

Out in these arid expanses
where the Red Sea meets the sand
people dream of progress
made from humility 
and the laughter of others
multi-colored