before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth

what you held in your hand
what you counted and carefully saved
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness

how you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever

before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel
where the indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road.

you must see how this could be you.
how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive

before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing
you must wake up with sorrow
you must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all its sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore
only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you into the day
to mail letters and purchase bread
only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say

it is I you have been looking for

and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.

-naomi shihab nye