This is the first year of the sea
between us. We are islands apart
but tuned to the same taut string.
I can feel the fear in his quaking
texts. 1) Christch is gon. Lideas lost
2) in littelton its all skwshd
3) wot hapns now
Between us the land widens, gulps
and fractures. The night falls deep.
4) i just thnk wot if all of a sudn
i had nuthng
You would have yourself.
5) is it enuff
You would have a lifetime of love.
It's the only word I can offer,
it's the one he knows best.
Thank you, thank you to my poet friend Jenny for answering 'yes' in response to my request to post A Word here. This poem - written for her son, Wyeth - rattled my chest and shook my heart open when I read it this afternoon and did so precisely as and when I needed it. To echo Marylinn in her post from earlier today, there are angels everywhere; Jenny? Wyeth? Marylinn? Yes, yes and yes again. In her colourful homage - an 'honoring collage' - to a dear friend, Marylinn writes ". . . Look not askance at whatever crosses your line of sight today. Be attuned to the most hushed and coded whisperings of the unseen. Embrace what may seem unlikely and pay attention. . . " I appreciate the reminder.
A Word first appeared in the September edition of The Dyslexia Foundation's monthly journal.
Jenny’s latest collection maps the country, people and places of Viet Nam. It forms a cultural and literary bridge between the country Viet Nam and the visit to New Zealand of a Vietnamese music teacher Hao, who lived with Jenny during his stay in New Zealand. “Is it possible to love a country you have never been to? Is it possible to visit a country in your imagination?” she asks in the introduction to Viet Nam: A Poem Journey. Viet Nam is an evocative, colourful and imaginative journey that confirms in her work the power of the imaginal world. Read more here.