Monday, December 18, 2006

...and another thing

Today I have been blessed with poems coming in many forms: my friend, Kurt Hein, sent me a compilation of Rumi poems and I choose this one to post because it seems....seasonal.

There Is Something in Us

Imagine a man selling his donkey
to be with Jesus.

Now imagine him selling Jesus
to get a ride on a donkey.
This does happen.

Jesus can transform a drunk into gold.
If the drunk is already golden,
he can be changed to pure diamond.
If already that, he can become the circling
planets, Jupiter, Venus, the moon.

Never think that you are worthless.
God has paid an enormous amount for you,
and the gifts keep arriving.

There is something in us
that has nothing to do with night and day,
grapes that never saw a vineyard.

We are all returning

says the Qur'an. Enjoy Shams,
or if you cannot do that, at least
consider what honest people tell you.

In addition, I have had kind greetings from poets Dorothy Mahoney and Amanda Earl. I met Dorothy at the Glenairley retreat in November and this has been truly serendipitous. In addition to being a vibrant and reflective poet, she is warm and encouraging. It is good to have a new poet friend, out there in Windsor-area land. And I have already mentioned Amanda, today...but am happy to remind you to read her poems, blog, and find her at Bywords.

In the mail, literary magazines. Last week I received Vallum on "The Desert" and am finding it rich. Today, Arc and CV2. Now I have something to savour over the next few days. I was interested to find some of the late Anne Szumigalski's work in CV2...and to read Saskatoon poet Mark Abley. When you have lived in a city, and love it, it's interesting to read a poet's works, and Abley narrates a poem in which street names from Saskatoon...Warman Road...appear as part of the geography, and it takes me immediately to those places. It also takes me to memory: back in the days when I was a U. of S. student and did not know much about anything poetic, I had a friend who took me over to another friend's place for tea. The mother who served the tea was Anne Szumigalski. I knew she was a poet, but how could I have known that I would be reading her work, and remembering her, for decades? I think, perhaps, my innocence kept me from having a bad case of the 'groupies'. I still get a little thrill when I encounter a familiar name in a magazine I reading Pamela Porter and Barbara Pelman in Arc and CV2. Both were at Glenairley, and it is no surprise to find their work in these lovely, lovely magazines.

A good day for poetry.


Post a Comment

<< Home