I have been curled up in a corner, reading "Fuel" by Naomi Shihab Nye. She is a Palestinian American poet who is one of my favorites. I love being moved into someone else's world for a few minutes, and really moved by the experience.
I remember the evening that I heard Carolyn Forche read her work. Only a few poems into the reading, I stopped noticing anything else, or anyone else in the room. It seemed that I could be her, through her experiences, know the way she felt in her memories. I still hear her voice when I read her words. A true voice can be so powerful.
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