I have, once again, been participating in the August poetry postcard project, which has been a good way to get back in the swing of writing after a long separation. As I’ve looked back at many of these poems, I see the theme of water emerging, and am reminded of the poems I wrote years ago, before graduate school–poems that were engaged in the tapestry of the larger environment. I have always been connected to the natural world, from my earliest memory through all of my years living in cities. Now that I live within walking distance of a large body of water, I am once again connected to this element in a visceral, daily way. I think about environmental disasters through the lens of waterways. I have found, I think, a new project.
These poems are the beginnings of many different thoughts about water, and I am certain that my form will change as I begin to develop this new series of poems. I feel more alive already. Here are a few poems:
1.
Under the surface,
suffocation and a disorienting
bloom slick —
Its blinding magnitude
. commands attention, predicts
a belly-up despair
. that will shape our vision,
our coastlines, our fears —
A chorus of turtles singing —
2.
Before the water came, they ate —
Before the river filled to
overflowing — Before the slicks
clogged the drains — Before
the fire and the wind, they
sat together to share stories
and food, laughter and
silence —
3.
This morning, the sound of
rain rouses me long after I
have turned off the alarm —
my body settles joyfully,
knowing that I do not
have to haul buckets
to nourish thirsty plants —
the preciousness of water
so apparent —
4.
We call ourselves
into light, out of
madness and ambivalence —
language sings us
full, the sea swelling
our lungs, priming
us to speak —
5.
Recall how reliably
we can describe
the wind, the rain,
fear on the tongue —
before the oil, before
the storm —
before words form —
6.
This is a gift, this droplet
in a bowl, this cup
of tea to warm you, this
sea inlet filling and emptying —
respiration of water-laden
particles, light descending
down and down into our
cells — the places we meld together —
Sanctuary Healing Gardens 