A window pushed high as it would go

Sometimes I understand the third stanza of this poem, and sometimes I don't. I love the picture that the second stanza creates, and I think the last stanza is just brilliant. Often when I write, "What he said..." I finish the sentence in my head with the last lines of this poem.

What He Said to His Enemies
He could hear them off in the forest,
massive branches breaking:
You are no good, will never be any good.

Sometimes they followed him,
rubbing out his tracks.
They wanted him to get lost
in the world of trees,
stand silently forever, holding up his hands.

At night he watched
the street lamp's light
soaking into his lawn.
He could bathe in its cool voice,
roll over to a whole different view.
What made them think
the world's room was so small?

On the table he laid out his clothes,
arranging the cuffs.
What he said to his enemies
was a window pushed high as it would go.
Come in, look for me where you think
I am. Then when you see no one is there,
we can talk.

- Naomi Shihab Nye

The poetry round-up is at Biblio File.