Naomi Shihab Nye

What would we do without our cellphones where we store our memories in digital files?

This morning we consider a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye (born March 12, 1952), American poet, editor, songwriter, and novelist.

Born to a Palestinian father and an American mother, she began composing her first poetry at the age of six. She has published or contributed to over 30 volumes of poetry and her works include poetry, young-adult fiction, picture books, and novels.

My Memories Live in my Mother’s Phone

Her dress shimmered tiny pink and green flower gardens

like a tablecloth in a rural twentieth century

American farmhouse, something tender

you never saw since you were a child too,

pleats and folds along the bodice,

tucks and stitchery made with a patience

that barely abides anymore, her hair tightly braided

and coiled in circles against her perfect head

with tiny red ribbons at elegant intervals,

but when you said, Memories, her face fell.

She whispered, we left them, we had to

leave everything in our house,

my cabinet, my doll, my books,

my pepper plant, my pillow.

Nothing now we knew before.

But we have a few pictures.

My memories live in my mother’s phone.

-- Naomi Shihab Nye