One of Silver Star’s former students, Nick M., died too soon. It was shocking to hear the news just as the Back-to-School Bar-B-Que began last night. Only twenty-four and I wondered what happened along the way of a freckled-face boy who had a quiet mischief about him.
In looking through poems last night I found this one by Naomi Shihab Nye :
Boy and Egg
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Every few minutes, he wants
to march the trail of flattened rye grass
back to the house of muttering
hens. He too could make
a bed in hay. Yesterday the egg so fresh
it felt hot in his hand and he pressed it
to his ear while the other children
laughed and ran with a ball, leaving him,
so little yet, too forgetful in games,
ready to cry if the ball brushed him,
riveted to the secret of birds
caught up inside his fist,
not ready to give it over
to the refrigerator
or the rest of the day.
(from her book Fuel)
The poem speaks to me of a more innocent and magical time in the life of a child. It’s a tragedy that Nick perhaps lost those moments of his own life. I hope he has found peace at last. I send loving and healing thoughts to his sisters and parents.