A Word

          A WORD

             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. 

             Jenny Powell

             Dunedin 2011

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. 

Tuesday Poem - Love In The Early Winter by Jenny Powell

LOVE IN THE EARLY WINTER

I open the window
and breathe in so much air
that the rest of the world pauses
through lack of oxygen.
I am gulping in the serenity
of early winter in the morning.
There's no bustle of breeze
so the grasses are still,
and the water race is duty bound
to reflect a frame of land.
This is the best season for light,
which flings itself
in acrobat angles on whatever
takes its fancy.

The view spreads
up the valley and waits
by the hills.

Jenny Powell
from her collection HATS, published by HeadworX, New Zealand (2000)

I couldn't resist posting this poem by Jenny in addition to The Physiotherapist's Piano that appears on the Tuesday Poem hub. Love In The Early Winter is a declaration - an exclamation - to the McKenzie country, a place of high skies, sheep stations, thermal currents, lakes and lupins.

Ah, a poem whose exuberance and restraint one can enter, breathe in, trust. . .


Thank you, Jenny. 

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For this week's Tuesday poems, click here then follow the links in the side bar.