(for Nikki)
.
I see joy.
See how you have expanded
until you’re exploding with all
that you’d held tightly
contained, buttoned up?
I see confidence.
See how what was timid
and tentative
now twinkles with the knowing
that you are amazing?
I am so proud
of who you’ve made,
you.
You can
so
you do.
Time.
Faith.
Encouragement.
You give yourself
in generous helpings,
spinning your blessings
into our blessings
into your blessings
into our blessings.
Oh, I am grateful
for such a
giving
heart!
I’m deliriously thankful
to be
amid
this dancing, scribing circle
of joy.
.
.
Another one for Diana, whose generousity of time and spirit are an inspiration.
Early in my publishing life, editor Sylvia Taylor spoke at a workshop about the importance of community: how as writers we reach up for guidance and assistance and we reach down to share benefit of our experience. I have seen many examples of this in the last decade, to my privilege and joy. Just this week, on one hand I purchased the book from a writer I’d encouraged at a conference, when this book was a dream, and on the other hand, I received an endorsement for my new book from a best-selling author. It’s a giant circle of support. We’re each other’s readers, promoters, flag wavers, editors, and shoulders to cry on. If you’re a writer, don’t sit alone, join a circle! You belong where people *really* understand about the voices in your head! 🙂 I highly endorse writing conferences as being the places to meet.
How lucky I am
in you.
How blessed I am
to know you.
How grateful I am
for you.
Today, I’m thinking of you,
new friend, met for a weekend,
those intense moments of stretching
ourselves into expectation,
birthing pains.
I find your words here,
between the pages,
and hear the anguish of your loss.
I remember our late night conversation,
the smile you fought for as you shared.
I’m thinking of you,
and wishing you lightness,
today.
Old friend synchronicity
Visiting one,
Another arrives out of the blue.
After forty years,
there are sympathetic vibrations
that draw us together:
joyful serendipity.
How strange
that this space that was always filled by you
is vacant now.
Some time,
I don’t know when,
you stopped paying rent and disappeared.
Now the corner where you lived
has fallen into disrepair
and when I look for what used to be
I see only
moldy fragments in the space
that was yours.
Those childish promises
made with fervent belief
prove the power of intention:
Fealty sworn with hooked pinkies
in confident conviction.
I’m part English, part Welsh, part Prussian, part French
Diluted by experiences of generations born the ‘right’ colour.
Not even ‘No Irish need apply’ to tarnish their immigrant dream:
Canada, land of opportunity for the stalwart farming types.
Though great-grandpa was an accountant and failed at farming.
.
So who am I to comment on anyone else’s parts?
. My great-niece: part African
. My nephew: part First Nations
are just family. Or
Those friends from here and there whose colour
Was not as important as their character
Whose home culture was a matter of curiosity
Never animousity. We were
White kids convulsing over that time at the bar
When the guy climbed into the back of Khalid’s car
convinced he was a taxi driver,
And we never considered that maybe parts of his heart
Were incized by the stereotype he laughed off.
Because we didn’t waste time worrying about races or colours,
We were full of the wonder of all our parts racing together toward our futures.
.
.
This was created as part of an assignment in my Education of Inclusion course. This week we’re looking at cultural inclusion and racisim. One of the videos we watched was about ‘hyphenated Canadians’. We were expected to comment on this, but I just don’t feel like I can say anything about what it might be like to feel caught between cultural identities, so this poem is my offering on the subject.
I open
an innocuous box
to find a starry sky,
music for the spheres,
time travel.
I open
an innocuous box
to find sparkling stars
that make me smile
remembering.
.
.
.
and since the box contained the 25th Anniversary edition of The Interstellar Suite in Surround Sound (among many other lovely things), I should probably include a link to a 25 year old event that inspired a scene in Grace Awakening, shouldn’t I? (Thanks Arlene for that awesome sparkly sky paper!)
I heard you sent it
and it makes me smile
to know my mail box
will receive a gift
from the past.
When it arrives
I will float back in time,
swim in memories for a while,
then break the surface
to be thankful
for now.
Shawn L. Bird 