by Mikaela Brewer ​for The 44 North

Senior Editor

“The Same City” by Terrance Hayes from Hip Logic. Copyright © by Terrance Hayes. Reprinted in Poetry with permission of Penguin Books, a division of The Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Note: This poem is not in the public domain! Please use the link above to read it.

Terrance Hayes is one of my favourite poets, with a long list of collections, awards, and fellowships which you can explore here. He is known to invent formal constraints, and often writes on themes of music, masculinity, popular culture, and race. His breathtaking poem, “The Same City,” is no different. 

The first thing you might notice about it is the shape of the poem, much like falling snow or a rain-streaked windshield—especially in the cold. The lineation could also mimic tassels or something woven, drawing attention to the layering of time and relationships in the poem. We feel the movement, which Hayes mentions in this quote, via Poetry, originally from a 2013 interview with Lauren Russell for Hot Metal Bridge:

“I’m chasing a kind of language that can be unburdened by people’s expectations. I think music is the primary model—how close can you get this language to be like music and communicate feeling at the base level in the same way a composition with no words communicates meaning? It might be impossible. Language is always burdened by thought. I’m just trying to get it so it can be like feeling.”

The movement of water, juice, breath, cables, mouths, electricity, radiowaves, bodies, traffic, and light are musical to begin with, but Hayes illuminates this by braiding time in: the present moment’s, Noah’s, Joseph’s, his when he met his girlfriend, his father’s as a younger man, and the infant’s biological father’s. And all of this life shares space to say that he—we—exist within all of these times. A stunning example is in the first half of the poem, where we almost feel like the speaker could be the infant’s brother—that he’s longing to be a father through this lens: “I’d get out now, / prove I can stand with him / in the cold, but he told me to stay / with the infant.” 

And then, we burrow further into the soil of time by visiting Noah and Joseph, setting up the multi-generational rescuing that happens in the second stanza—“But to rescue a soul is as close / as anyone comes to God”—by beginning again. This is especially resonant of Noah’s story, after the flood. In the case of this poem, the rain is still falling, and the rescue is ongoing with tendrils in every time portal Hayes has opened (and left open). In other words, he’s writing about love. 

The complexity of love is further enacted through the breathtaking enjambment Hayes uses. These lines stop me every time: “There is one thing I will remember / all my life. It is as small / & holy as the mouth / of an infant. It is speechless.” Read each line individually, without the others. Hayes doesn’t tell us what the ‘one thing’ is, either. I read it as ‘love’ while knowing how intentionally he leaves himself and us speechless. It’s so profound it’s unnamable. And all we can do is hold each other—our smallness, sacredness, and innocence—in the cold.

Thinking about the holiday season and the onset of winter, this poem is a tender though strong reminder to remember who we are because of who is or has been for us. “In 1974, this man met my mother / for the first time as I cried or slept / in the same city that holds us / tonight. If you ever tell my story, / say that’s the year I was born.” Look at the enjambment again, and how it’s shifted to capture a clear love, honouring, and admiration for a father, even though I’m positive it wasn’t a perfect relationship. The holidays remind us that perfect relationships don’t exist. We continue to love, give, and carry grief regardless. Whose name(s), in your life, could you substitute into this poem, perhaps changing a few details here and there? We are all born when someone else is, whether blood-related or not. And to tell them we feel this is one of the greatest gifts we can give during the loneliest time of the year. 

Before you go, I wanted to share a few other poems that are in conversation with this one: “Perhaps the World Ends Here” by Joy Harjo, “A New Law” by Greg Delanty, “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden, and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. Please read them—I hope they offer you a hand or hug this winter. 

by Gillian Smith-Clark, ​for The 44 North

Editor in Chief

As the year turns, we’re invited into a season that often arrives wrapped in a package of expectation: celebration, connection, spiritual renewal, reflection. Yet the holidays also hold multiple truths at once, and for many, the season arrives with more complexity than cheer—distance from family, uncertainty about the future, unresolved conflicts, and more questions about spirituality and religion than answers; alongside the not-so subtle pressure to reinvent ourselves on January 1st. This December/January issue of The 44 North looks at the holidays with honesty and curiosity, and joy and hope. Not because everything feels okay, but because to find joy and peace in the holiday season it is not only possible, but necessary, to hold multiple truths at once. To see the world as it is: in all its beautiful messiness. 

This issue, our team explores the realities that shape our well-being at this time of year. Our feature story by Abbigale Kernya examines what it means to spend the holidays away from home—whether by choice, circumstance, or necessity—and how distance reshapes belonging. Abbigale and Helena together take on the pressures of New Year’s resolutions and career planning, challenging the embedded assumption that success and happiness in life can be scheduled like a process, or a destination at which we eventually arrive. The latest Life Outside the Box podcast episode is a powerful and inspiring conversation with Cal Campos, focused on questioning the systems we’re in and having honest conversations about suicide.

We’re also excited to share this issue’s Artist Spotlight, featuring Extended Mic, a community-rooted platform showcasing diverse young creators pushing the boundaries of film and poetry. And in our Book Review, we take a closer look at John Green’s Everything Is Tuberculosis—a deeply human, vulnerable reflection on illness, interconnectedness, and what it means to care for one another in a fragile and inequitable world.

We are honoured to publish a powerful work by Rohit Doel, whose poem and essay on disability justice push us to listen more deeply, to expand our definition of community care. Our Poet’s Corner highlights Terrance Hayes’ “The Same City,” and Mikaela Brewer brings us into the world of social support with a short story about calling 211, asking what trust in community looks like when it’s tested. Plus, we offer a collaborative gift guide from our team—because hope and joy can also taste like a good meal, or arrive as a small, thoughtful gesture.

Lastly, we're excited to be offering our very first essay contest. If you're hoping to submit over the holidays before our January 6th deadline, check out the recording and resource packet from our writing workshop, here.

As we close out another year, we’re not chasing perfection. We’re choosing presence: with ourselves, with each other, and with the complicated realities shaping our world. Whether your holidays are joyful, heavy, chaotic, beautifully quiet, or even all those things at different points, we’re grateful to be there with you on your journey.

Here’s to truth, peace, and possibility!

— Gillian Smith-Clark

Editor in Chief, The 44 North Media

by The 44 North Team

From us to you this holiday season

When everything is expensive, you want to be more sustainable, or produce as little waste as possible, it’s time to think outside the box.

The Holidays don’t need to be about spending money—they can be about taking the time to make meaningful things. 

Stories to Share, Ideas to Keep

Books travel further than we do, and as James Clear noted, “Books are the closest thing to a time machine that humans have ever created.”  Starting in early high school, every year during the holidays, my dad would gift me a book (or two) and write the date and an inscription inside.  My bookshelves today still hold many of those volumes, and now that he’s gone, every time I pull one off the shelf it’s like he’s reaching into the future to speak to me—and I’m receiving another wonderful gift.  This holiday season, my suggestion is to give a favourite book, either from a local store or from your own shelf—perhaps a copy you dog-eared and loved, with the date and a message inside the cover. 

If you don’t have a book to give, curate a small reading list, like a playlist of ideas:

• Something that made you laugh

• Something that soothed you

• Something that shifted your thinking

• Print it, fold it, tie it with twine. A library card is optional, but a poetic touch.

—Gillian

Edible Moments (Not Projects)

Forget elaborate charcuterie boards. A gift can be four perfect shortbread cookies wrapped in wax paper. Or a tiny jar of cocoa mix or soup with a handwritten recipe. Or one tea bag paired with one cookie:

“A moment of calm, to be used whenever needed.”

Small servings can feel intentional and thoughtful—a treat for now, not a chore for later.

—Gillian

Scrapbook Holiday Cards & Letters

Sometimes it’s hard to generate the words we’d like to share with our loved ones, especially during the holidays. But if you have old magazines, notebooks, cookbooks, textbooks, or even holiday cards around, you may be able to borrow words in some fun, crafty ways:

• From a book or magazine (that you’d recycle otherwise), use scissors to cut out a full page of an essay, short story, or news article. Circle or cross out words, sentences, and phrases with a permanent marker. What you’d like to say might erupt as the words left on the page! 

• Gather an array of materials with writing in them, such as notebooks, cookbooks, textbooks, or past holiday cards. Pick out phrases or sentences you love, and cut them out with scissors. Rearrange your fragments on a new piece of paper to craft a message, card, or letter!

Of course, you can always go full-craft-mode and decorate your pages with other make-shift supplies around your house. Some fun ones might include memorabilia we usually throw away, such as receipts, ticket stubs, bottle labels, sleeves of to-go coffee cups, twist-ties, or information/business cards. Get creative!

—Mikaela

Make Ornaments

Get your craft on and make something meaningful for your loved ones with things you already have lying around your home. Felt? Air-dry clay? Old wrapping paper? This is one of those easy gift ideas that lets you customize your ornament for whoever you’re giving it to, and there is no shortage of tutorials and links online to learn how to do it. 

It also allows us to slow down during what can be a very busy and overwhelming time of year. Put on some music, light a candle, eat a snack, and get crafting. 

—Megan