In September 2019 I traveled to Greece to attend a poetry retreat run by the renowned poet and performance artist Luka Haralampou (Luka Lesson). These handful of poems were written and developed there in Monólithos on the island of Rhodes.
Leaving
When I left the island
I knew it would be long
The clip on my suitcase
kept slipping undone
and all my things kept sliding out
again again and again
Rain fell and wind blew
and salt spat in my eye
and all my words kept sliding out
and so I threw them high
“Fly on!
and wait there!
voice, my passport
song, my visa
Together we will go
north, north and ever north.”
The journey just begun
sharing
rooms and beds and floors
smoke and dreams and stories
heading
north and ever north
to touch
the edge
a fading drug-soaked war
yellow limes green coriander
five tone language on my tongue
I rode the dragon smiling
empathy resigned separate and superior
Why do we always wonder where the water ends?
Why is the sea so jealous of the rain?
Why those salty tears when we never drink the ocean?
Why waste our days in wondering
when we would cherish, sleeping
one rich and gentle dream?
We pull in new directions
Did you hear the pebble turn?
north, north and ever north?
And who would smash my story?
Call disaster on the journey?
I prayed to you for purity
I played the better parts of me
What more do you ask of me?
My jealous heart, a part of me
that lessens all that I could be?
I paid the muses, can’t you see,
with shadows of my poetry
I made the call, come dance with me
We’ll sing the songs where we can be
the stars of our eternity …
I know …
slipping clips and sliding things
guide me on this round
I gather up my scatterings
as my feet find their ground
returning
darkened and more singular
with all the grit that got me out
to here to there
and turning still
grinding slowly to perfection
north, north and ever north
will I know when I arrive?
My Hands Can Always Hold More
Speak to me of your woes
My ears can always hold more
Your troubled nights, your tumbling pain
These arms can always hold more
Let’s yell our curses to the moon
The sky can always hold more
Let’s sing our keening to the stars
The night can always hold more
Stomp your grief into the stone
The land can always hold more
And even when you cannot bear
the thought, the words, the secrets
Or even if the hollow night
echoes as it listens
Or even if you feel the empty day
will yawn with your existence
Please know
a single look, a simple touch
a sign in my direction
however small
whatever weight
My hands can always hold more
Necropolis
When I die
I want a bed of pine needles
Bees zag zigging in their best striped suits
I want birds
and butterflies
to stop
and swap their stories for the day
I want the snake
to slide into my shelter
keep my weapons and utensils safe
I want the eagle
perched upon my roof
to tell the tales
of all the seas
of every land
from every wind
and are the gods
still cruel and kind?
and who has birthed and
who has died and
who will be my neighbour?
Sing to me when the birds don’t come
Talk to me when the eagle cannot fly
I know the pines still grow
seed on seed on seed
And tell my tale to me again
making sure that every child
hears how proud they should be
to be
from this land
under this sky
and standing on this stone
Tell my tale to me again
Hold your head this high
For you are Kimisala born
best realm of mighty Rodos
The sage is sweeter
Rosemary more wise
Our goats are quickest
Our terracotta brightest
Honey to cure all your ills
Hold your head this high
Sing your song this loud
For you are of Colossus
shining bright into the north
to make Apollo proud
Breathe it in this deeply
For everyone you love
Will feel your warmth
And so the pines still grow
seed on seed on seed
Then take me gently into my dark
For I am tired and you are ready
Take me softly to my past
Bones so fine, so dry, so light
Her smile imprinted in my mind
Her steps, her shining hair
Her lilting voice
a burbling spring
mountain born
she flowed into our lives
a clouded moon
a violet haze
we thought that we had tricked the fickle gods
but less than three returns of age
was all that she would see
and we
would never see
the moon
with vibrant hearts again
and we
would never hear
her laugh
or twist her shining curls
yet there she lies, protected
So tell my tale to me again
For I am tired and you are ready
Making sure that every child
hears how proud that they should be
to be
living on this land
under this sky
Hold your head this high
Sing your song this loud
Breathe it in this deeply
And everyone you love
will feel your warmth
This Place Sings Differently
Ah, to speak of land that sings!
Whispering pines
in harmony with
the fragrant sage
that clings
to rocks’ debris
Clay so red
you’d swear that
it had bled
seeping from the stone
and with the drone of bees
birds tweet twittering
wings and beak
and so much work
waiting to be done
Moments
Before that man with burning eyes
and welcome smile
stepped into my life
Before I saw those printed words
strange names unknown
distant places
Before I saw that you had chosen me
to be the one to speak the tongue
with you, for you, from you
I didn’t know it was
your kinship that was coming
I couldn’t see
that knowing nothing
was how I’d start each day
In those moments when I tried
to form the picture
of where I’d be
or what I’d do
I had no template
I worried for the impact of my ignorance
Landing on a red dirt strip
alone, but not quite lost
I turned in circles
in the heat —
in the dust —
and was led
to a broken house
a crooked tree
A woman, same eyes, same smile
and taking both my cheeks
Yabbarra-ngeba nja-kakaya
the clearest tongue
the grace of elders
patient and complete
And when it was over
so many years passed
we had lost and we had gained
Babies born Elders dead
Children lost Language found
And when the dust settles
We measure the love and the loss
with words of every shade
Now I understand
that in the turn of moments
Everyone we love
can be pulled into the wake