by Naomi Shihab Nye
Nye. Fuel. Messenger
Someone has been painting NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE across the backs of bus benches, blotting out the advertisements beneath with green so the strong silver letters appear clearly at corners, in front of taco stands and hardware stores. Whoever did this must have done it in the dark, clanging paint cans block to block or a couple of sprays— they must have really wanted to do it. Among the many distasteful graffiti on earth this line seems somehow honorable. It wants to help us. It could belong to anyone, Latinas, Arabs, Jews, priests, glue sniffers. Mostly I wonder about what happened or didn't happen in the painter's life to give her this line. I don't wonder about the person who painted HIV under the STOPs on the stop signs in the same way. NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE Did some miracle startle the painter into action or is she waiting and hoping? Does she ride the bus with her face pressed to the window looking for her own message? Daily the long wind brushes YES through the trees.