First appeared in [Word]: A Journal of Canadian Poetry, Winter, 2010.

ONCE YOU LEAVE

you won’t come back: not to those hills
mythic in sun-wash stretching to sea,
not to the sheer greens of meadows
their denizens cud-drunk with that abundance,
not to the harbour wall’s gradual curve
that outreaching moon-hook of stone.

The scarp and pocked rock face will remain,
trees will hold their leaves to the same sun,
houses will creak foundations, lean away.
These things will forget you, viewed
from afar: your features strange as wanting.
They will set your form with a name

for it’s been so long and the world is bent
on change, the kind that creeps a deep past
desolate of you. No you won’t come back.
But someone very like you: like enough to think
those hills remain poised in welcome,
do not turn granite backs on you.

Stephen Rowe, 2010

Back to Poems

As a poet, I need to set aside time I can use specifically for writing and revising new poems. I found this much easier before I became a high school teacher. Now much of my time between September and June is taken up with preparing lesson plans, marking, and other school related activities (not to mention my other responsibilities as a husband and home owner). The time I have for writing most of the year is little at most, but I still manage to write a few poems here and there. Rising early on a Saturday or Sunday when the house is quiet and I’m alone with my thoughts for a couple of hours is the most I can hope for during the school year. The summer is my season for writing and I have ten weeks to devote more time to my work and attempt to produce more poems of greater quality that, hopefully, can make their way into a new manuscript.

It helps as well that this summer I’ve received a grant from the Newfoundland and Labrador Arts Council to help with a project I’ve been working on for a couple of months now. In the last couple of years I’ve become quite interested in Stoic philosophy, how it originated, the early doctrines and its later development in the Roman world. I first became interested in Stoicism when I read Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, written over a number years while the man was Emperor of Rome. Reading this book, I began to form a sense of basic Stoic thought: the use of logical thought to inform human action and perception of the world, the importance of a strong moral character, the insistence that happiness is ultimately up to the individual, and one’s place in humanity and the world as a whole. A fascination grew and before long I’d purchased a number of books on Stoicism and works of the few Stoic authors that remain for us today (Aurelius, Seneca, and Epictetus being chief among them).

I will use the time I have during the summer to conduct further research and work on a series of poems that deal with the tenets of Stoic thought and explore responses to those philosophers who developed the classical tradition. I’m not just interested in the ideals, but how these might play out in modern life, my own experiences and what I see around me. As time goes by I will likely post the odd entry about some aspect of this writing and where it leads me, the difficulties and discovers I meet along the way.

Winter has come and gone for another year, but there are always remembrances, little leftovers both tangible and beyond our reach that remain to let us know there’s more to come down the road.  A couple months back I read just such a remebrance; Grace Must Wander, Stephanie McKenzie’s second collection of poems published by Ireland’s Salmon Poetry in 2009, and was delighted to find “The Disciples of Winter” at the very end of the book:

Grace must wander even with the lonely sight of crows,
the purple and the purple black, each one spotted
like a snowflake, fingerprint. Birds sing of other worlds
that are not grown here but happen somewhere out there
in the land of blow away the dead and make a wish
we give to children. They have learned to stretch their necks
out, offer up their throats on blue platters of the sky, do not seek
pity, feel shame. Their feathers fallen give us leave to ponder.
Consider the city. It mimics the crow, black throat
caught at the chords sings out a promise of day.
Evening, and morning, and at noon, transparent
and bound to truth, the knowing of winter is clean,
like a scar storied and sure of where it’s been.

There’s a sense of longing to be elsewhere, to explore those “other worlds / that are not grown here”; to wait out winter for the eventual revelation of spring. The crows are more than birds; they are messengers, prophets preaching a future full of grace that is open to those who keep the faith, patiently watch the world, the city, the days passing hours at a time. The risk in this kind of faith, whether it be in the Christian god, nature or the general passage of time is something very personal and not to be taken lightly. That said, it must be taken, just as the crows “offer up their throats on blue platters of the sky”; they know what they’re doing. There’s a belief in them synonomous with who they are and reaching that realization is the greater part of the journey.

Chad Pelley, the young and upcoming novelist, and Newfoundland literary giant Tome Dawe have been nominated for awards from the Canadian Authors Association. Great to see a couple local writers getting some deserved recognition. You can check out the whole article below. Again, congrats to the shortlisted authors.

http://www.canauthors.org/awards/shortlist.html#announcement

Edit: I nearly missed Michael Crummey being up for one of these as well. Congrats.

If you don’t read xkcd, you should. Here’s the latest comic, awfully (ir)relevant to today’s issues in digital books (a good laugh as well).

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