Words
My Israeli friend wants to know where my poems come from. I try to explain from where he has postioned me for his interview, beneath a beech tree. As I struggle to answer his questions, beads of rain fall from the leaves onto my arm. I want to tell him that trying to write a poem is like a struggle with words. Words arrive but mostly they’re not the right words. But if you have something to say, the right words will find a way. But sometimes you don’t know altogether what it is you want to say – like now. I want to write a poem about where poems come from. I don’t want to write an essay, a story, or a lecture. Now I’m thinking of one my poems, The Art of Detachment, which came about through me trying to write in the voice of God. When I see Gil next, I’ll tell him about that one. Poetry is about finding the right language, the images, to convey the thoughts, the feelings. When a poem comes together, when you get the words in all the right places, the poem can say more than you intended, says more sometimes than you know yourself. It is born, it has a life of its own. You can let it go, and to every person that reads the poem it will have its own meaning.
Getting a poem right feels for me the same as a potter must feel with a piece of clay. Only words are the raw materials. You have to coax them into a shape. You have to keep an eye on it, read it aloud, take bits out. Finally when you have done, you can ask a friend to read it, like a potter may ask a friend to drink from a cup. Watch to see if it's capable of holding water.
Back to my Israeli friend who seems to be troubled about the struggle with poetry when his people at home are struggling with bombs. There’s a poem waiting to be born.
The Art of Detachment
So what if it's lonely?
Now and again a shape
will turn itself in from the darkness
then close on its tail a name:
comet, kite, kangaroo.
Others will arrive
without even a suitcase:
guilt, joy, passion, shame.
They are temporary guests
to be sent packing
into the arms of a story,
to be cast away with a kiss. (First published in Magma)
