I’ve always
loved writing poetry. For years I neglected the craft, and now the joy of returning
to it is indescribable. It makes me so happy! Sometimes it makes me sad too,
and that's okay. It’s all good.
I’m currently
working on a book of poetry, entitled Rim of the Visible World. The collection will include several
sections, a few of which are entitled: “Here We Come A Ghazaling,” “Echoes,” “A
Bit of Ham” and “Rim of the Visible World.”
The idea for
this book came about during a poetry class I attended. For
homework, my professor assigned the exercise of simply sitting in silence,
doing nothing, for at least an hour a day. Admittedly, I didn’t always do my
homework, but when I did, I felt tranquil and able to sift my thoughts. No
small feat in my world!
I've tried to continue this
process of quieting my spirit, during which bits and pieces of memory,
beauty, humour, faith and so on surface and eventually find their place on the page. I think the goal
of writing this particular book is primarily to indulge myself, take the liberty to
explore a realm that seems mystical to me. Though somewhat selfish, I think it's a
good place to start. I’d be delighted if others enjoy my explorations
too, so another goal would be publication. I hope to have the manuscript
completed by the end of this year.
The piece I’ve
included here was written as I grieved the loss of two brothers and a sister to
cancer. The loss is beyond words,
no matter how poetic, but in a measure the words bring comfort, and perhaps they'll
unite other grieving hearts.
There is Not
Silence
after John Thompson’s Translations of
RenĂ© Char’s –
Eternity at Lourmarin Albert Camus
We have ceased
to speak
with those we
love,
but there is not
silence.
And there will
never be.
The rhythm has
not changed,
of song and step,
or that simple
smile
consisting of
one sustained beat.
A bond so close
never falters.
The power of
love
transforms insolent
darkness
into glorious light.
When that
hovering menace
has once and for
all,
victimized
its last,
love will
overwhelm
the perceived
severance,
into harmony
with all the
parts
of the whole,
and the conversations will
begin again.
In memory of three beautiful people who were incredibly loved:
Clark McCrae, Terry McCrae, and Karen McCrae