Wednesday Poems

Image:  Among the Birches, acrylic on canvas, 11” x 14” (Sold)

Thirty years ago last fall, my younger sister Carolyn died. When I got the unexpected news of her death, I was all set to do a reading at the Vancouver Public Library.  I’d been excited about it; years earlier I’d been a clerk in that library and now I was returning as a featured poet. And I was looking forward to reading a sequence I’d written to honour Carolyn, who, despite living with severe cerebral palsy and suffering the many trials that came with it, was one of the most joyful people I have ever known. Then I learned that her funeral date conflicted with the reading. I was torn, because though I’d just visited Carolyn a few weeks earlier, I wanted to go back to New Brunswick to be with family and the many who would mourn her passing.  My decision was made easy when a group of good friends stepped in, agreeing to do the reading on my behalf so I could be where I needed to be. In addition to Carolyn’s poem, I’d chosen another dozen to read. Nine women divided the poems among them, and carried the night off with aplomb.  It was one of the finest, most caring gifts I’ve ever received.

So for this week’s post, to honour the many gifts of friends and of sisters, I’ve chosen a couple of poems from Between Sisters, the sequence for Carolyn in my book, Belonging (Sono Nis).

from Between Sisters

v.

You hold the chalk in your toes,
race wild lines across a small board
propped up at the end of your couch.

Intrigued, I try to imitate – 
place a crayon between my toes,
twist myself into position on the floor,
my foot poised at the page
aims and makes one faint orange stain.

I give up on this quickly,
return to the gift of agility in fingers.
 
You mutter something like frustration
so I come over, reach past
your foot scrounging in cushions
to retrieve your chalk for you,
to place it back between your toes

that will not grip what I give.
At first you chuckle
as over and over again the chalk just drops
into the soft folds of the blanket.

I persist until finally you tire of teasing me
kick at my hands, order
Nnnh!  g 'way!

the look on your face defiant
at my young surprise
that this you will do
for yourself.


vii.

Carrying you, one room to another
breakfast to bedtime
your so small body
stiffens horizontal in my arms.

The spasms just happen.
 
Two skinny teens,
one athlete, one atrophied,
we make our awkward way
across the floor

into a moment when the spasms lapse;
I ease you upward
nose to nose
your arms a sudden necklace
and we hug, ooo squeeze
tight, love
delight
upon my cheek,
the softness of your lips,
oh, sister, your gentle kiss!

With thanks to the women who did that reading for me:  Kate Braid, Cynthia Flood, Sharon Goldberg, Christine Hayvice, Claire Kjundzic, Joy Kogawa, Zoë Landale, Sheila Norgate, and Tana Runyan.

This will be my last Wednesday Poems post, at least for a while.  I’ve been doing these for a year now and it’s time to step back, decide where I want to go next.  It may be that I’ll continue with this idea, but less frequently. Or… I might come up with something new. Stay tuned!  And meanwhile, thanks to everyone who’s taken a look at these and given me feedback to them along the way.