The Forest

I fell in love with you

On the day half the forest disappeared

In this little patch of woods behind the bikepath

Back when the forest was complete

Right on what is now the border between tall slim trees

And stubby muddy expanses

Was the place I first felt the Mother

God

Reach out her hand to soothe

Another broken heart of mine

Many years ago

As I lay with my face pressed to the forest floor

Now when I call on Her to guide me

Again through the terrible love for

A disappearing man

I remember letting you, a stranger, see my tears

For the violated forest

Naively assuming that men honour forests and hearts

forever

The things that disappear through men’s fears and women’s tears

The sacred slaughtered groves

I call on Her still

She is far greater than the stranger by the road

Or the clear cut strewn with garbage

She is the new green leaves

And the sky in the spring

And -

and, again

Oh...

here it comes

poetry!

flinally

after months of self-deception

here it comes

the poetic wave where

my heart bursts with love for myself

and a thousand memories of love

flash in

far 

from the past

snowy night on King st outside the Starlight Night Club

the sky glittering

with his head on my shoulder

or just

us all

roving in high heeled crews

feeling old

when we were so, so young

or,

perhaps, in the middle age of young

too old to be young

but with no idea what was in store for us

how long life can sometimes be

(if we're lucky)

and how lonely it can get

that moment in 2008 

at 2 am at the jane bond

when I thought, my life is just going to be a 

bad canadian indie movie

and whatever happens,

i will end up here again

alone with a friend under the neon lights

or wandering home in the snow

with her,

my lost sister

and all that orbitted around us

from the first plaforms I bought at the Rideau Centre

with her

and the walks we took along the canal

or late nights coming home from the Revolution nightclub

past Macdonalds

or tears in the hallway

all that, 

so much

from 1998 to 2009

at least

and a bit before, 

and a bit after

before: alone, in the domestic wild corners of Ottawa, the edges of the river

the tree by the highway

after: somewhere in Waterloo, alone, beloved trees and rolling hills 

the highway that sounds like a river

and the chronicles of narnia

long winter walks

birds in the snow, bright red or yellow

and of course,

him

for a while

all this poetry buried within me

standing next to you at church in our best

hoping to be that nice mennonite girl

well,

i am old,

yes

older than you

wouldn't you like to see the world through my eyes?

there is so much to see 

but i have a past too

when I was your age

i was listening to this song

at the grocery store, maybe,

or at the jane bond

at 2 am, 

waiting, waiting for that person to love

and then

going home alone

you've probably gone home now too

from the place I would have been standing next to you

and i chose to stay inside

listening to this song

and remembering what it means

to be me

black eyed Susan's

when I saw those

Black-eyed Susans

by the highway

blowing in the wind

and i didn’t care if you ever saw them

and if they ever brought you the same joy 

they bring me

i knew i was fucking free

the grand river in elora

The cedar trees hang over the grand river
clinging to limestone cliffs
water flows below the land i sit on
carved out over years

spiders build webs over the ever-flowing river
while giant carp nose the fallen tree, nibbling it's cedar fronds
in the dark

across the river,
two white swans come along from the bridge to downtown
they stop in front of a house backing the water
as if conferring
finally one climbs up the bank and walks over to a wide dish
and eats for a long time
while her partner paddles the water, looks around
finally he concedes and climbs that bank
eat from the bowl with his mate

when she fills, she comes down to the bank and jumps into the water
he follows soon after
and they paddle back towards the bridge

i lay back and look up at the cedars
while birds have a shouting contest in the trees
and the light fades

childhood

I want to shrink to exist

Solely in the broad, brown west entrance stairwell of Connaught School

Where the primary kids climbed to their classrooms

And we took piano lessons in the rooms to the side

 

Between the playground where I got stuck on a skipping rope I was using to climb a slide

And no one helped me and I lay there for ages as the yard cleared

Until I finally realized I could just climb myself up

 

And the classroom where I want to paste all the things

And was afraid of everyone except my teacher

And then of her, when he told me to dial down the pasting

 

Ashamed explorer, scared achiever, trembling endless will to master

I want to live in the stairwell alone

Before, after and within my humiliations

And the feeling of being alone in a crowd

Here, I am just alone

And I can remember all the books read to me

And the books I’m going to read

Saturday

Could learn about medicinal plants via the TransitionTown group

at Bechtel Park on Saturday morning

Or could lie in the sun there and listen to the water bubble

Smell the damp earth and cedar

And empty my thoughts

Strange Street

A square sloping lawn with ancient trees

Down on Strange Street

With a mysterious art deco power station in the distance

And then the stream, hidden

All this, just before Victoria Street

Where the road opens out to bright sun again

 

This was once the further reaches of my journey south

My secret park

When Kitchener was only mine

wool and water

he was lovely
the hair on his arms like scented river rushes
i could gather to my breast

when i dipped my oar into the waters
he held me fast
we breathed in the late summer night
breath for breath

when he released the oar
suddenly
i was thrown into the river

oh but the rushes are sweet!
i reach for them
and they are always just beyond my fingertips
while his face
cheshire-like
fades into the middle distance

back in the boat
the dream rushes i collected
are already melting away
under spring skies
his cheshire smile
is all that remains

fading so slowly

spring

the field where they cut down the trees last summer
where i cried next to you
when we were first discovering each other

this spring is a sea of forget-me-nots

no matter the ruin
beauty returns

the beauty that we shared will
never be forgotten

winter

They are paving the north field

Where we lay in each other arms last fall among the wildflowers

I told you then, this beauty won’t be here forever

So let's enjoy it

Now the flowers are gone

And so are you

All beautiful things are fleeting

Though they seem eternal under the autumn sun

The Greenway

down the greenway
narrow strip of emerald
between concrete and dirty snow
mysteriously free of garbage
now that i think of it
except at the very end
where two metal fences meet
bits of concrete strewn like a giant
flinging stones
bottles and pages and trinkets
all blown into the corner
under the scotch pines
i'm sitting on a broken cinder block
watching a black cat
watching me
from the other side of the barbed wire fence
among the faded shipping containers
beside the growing tower
under the swing of the cranes
sweeping the grey sky

it might be raining
a little
when it's windy a white tarp
blows through an open window in the tower
like a curtain in a lady's dressing room
and soothes the neuronal firing
that is the mind i carry

the mind that
moves quickly like the cat
running as I move towards it
moves steadily
in the wind like the tarp curtain
spits like the rain
little piercing touches
is dirty like the edge of the fences where
mud meets garbage

still
i sit
waiting
for motion to cease
and stillness
to return

perhaps not today
back down the greenway
i carry god with me