Last time, I wrote a few things and thoughts about spring. It’s a time that we all have inside us, our wish for metamorphosis, release, growth, renewal.
Last year, I published a little book of poems from my mountain hideaway in Nicaragua and present a poem here, about spring. The poems are all inspired by my reading of Chinese poets, especially the translations of Rexroth. This one in visual form, is included in the slim volume. Writing this intro, reminds me of Tu Fu’s Spring Landscape. A classic of Chinese literature. If you are Chinese, you’ll probably know it.
Spring. Whenever I think of spring, I also think of Seferis. His journals, how the subject of renewal often featured. It’s emblematic of the poetry of many modern Greeks. Here, he writes …
Just a little more and we will see
the almonds in bloom.Just a little more and we will see
the marbles glitter,
glitter in the sun
and the waves of the sea.Just a little more, so we can rise
a little higher.
Perhaps, this is the central theme of my own poetry - one more day, one more shot, one more chance, one more dance in this world of magic and mystery … Life, living is often a question of endurance for those of us disposed to question its necessity, contingency and power.
Here below, are a couple of other poems, about spring. The first is about my time in Kyiv, Ukraine. Ah, there is no better spring than after a hard winter! And perhaps, that is what the second poem also is about - celebrating one’s own survival and as D.H. Lawrence once proclaimed, saying … “Look, we have come through!”
Yes, that is the miracle of spring. Whatever time of year it happens, and especially its presence, eternal presence in your own heart.
A Spring Message
Spring has sprung.
The graves grow up
in color
and it is as if
the days are longer,
so light they step.
Even Mr. Berkowitz
standing out
in the morning sun
and bird song,
has a slight smile on,
as he leans on his cane,
all that remains
of his father’s sturdiness.
Spring has sprung.
The parks are full
of hopping, hungry birds,
baby carriages,
and it is as if
the monuments of the long dead
were about to step off
the pedestal, we’ve put them on
and dance alive.
Even Mr. Berkowitz
like the weather itself,
has something to say
about being alive, green, wet.
“Thank God it’s spring.”
he says,
“and I can forget”.
April 10, 2001
Kyiv, Ukraine
The Fall Of Winter
Here it is halfway through winter
And I have yet to find
A way to your heart before
The snow piles up so high against the door
That I cannot get out from myself.
…..
Yet the sun shines
Through the window, through my eyes,
Through my mind, through to you
Yet not your heart
Which escapes in the shadows never
To find my door and dig me out.
…….
This winter half empty
And I can’t wait for spring, the filling
Where the only shadows are those I cast,
The only heart I can’t find, God’s,
But first I must drink up the winter
And find myself in good Canadian whiskey
And the warmth of a well insulated house
That keeps me from you.
March 16th, 1993
Kenabeek, Ontario
Spring Song