Mediterranean Blue by Naomi Shihab Nye
Each mind a universe swirling as many details as yours, as much love for a humble place.
Mediterranean Blue
If you are a child of a refugee, you do not sleep easily when they are crossing the sea on small rafts and you know they can’t swim. My father couldn’t swim either. He swam through sorrow, though, and made it to the other side on a ship, pitching his old clothes overboard at landing, then tried to be happy, make a new life. But something inside him was always paddling home, clinging to anything that floated—a story, a food, or face. They are the bravest people on earth right now, don’t dare look down on them. Each mind a universe swirling as many details as yours, as much love for a humble place. Now the shirt is torn, the sea too wide for comfort, and nowhere to receive a letter for a very long time. And if we can reach out a hand, we better.
The Tiny Journalist (BOA Editions, 2019)
This puts it exactly. Apparently marginalized people have a better big-picture view than those of us closer to the center. This is why we need to listen. This is why poetry readers profit more than poets do.