Found by Words: The Companionship of Poems
photograph by Elisa Calvet
By Tim Scorer
At the heart of the matter is the conviction that there are poems waiting for me to find them. Being convinced of this, I am constantly attentive and searching. Where will the next one show up? It might be as effortless as walking through the Vancouver airport and finding 43 words on a wall between terminals:
I am so angry I made a sign
I hope you are happy
what are we even doing here
let us use our inside voices
I do not have time for this
no to bad things
we are all going to be okay
Sometimes transit systems make it easier for me. It was at least 25 years ago that I lifted my eyes from the floor of the Toronto subway car and encountered this in the frame above the seat where an ad would normally be found:
The Trees
- Roo Borson
Their lives are longer, slower than ours.
They drink more deeply, slowly,
are warmed, do not shiver at dusk.
The heart unwinding makes a small noise.
Who would hear it?
Yet the trees attend,
perhaps to us, perhaps to nothing,
fragrance maybe, not of
flowering, but leaves and bark.
Trees. Dusk. Hand-coloured photographs
of the world before we were born.
Not sweet, but as water is,
sweet to a mouth long closed on itself.
Befriend them.
Some years later I was in touch with Roo Borson to seek permission to include her poem in a curriculum I was writing. Once found, these poems can hang on and follow me around.
Other times, I have to be pretty active to smoke them out. We found Spartacus Books in Vancouver because they have a drop box of books for prisoners. Taking excess books from the thrift shop on Bowen Island might have started out as a service; now it’s a delight to hang out in a place that facilitates the encounter with poems that may be coy but are still willing to be found. On May 25 this year, in the poetry corner of Spartacus, I met Black American poet Lucille Clifton (1936-2010) through her collection The Book of Light. I want to remember dates like that. You might understand, when you read this:
song at midnight
- Lucille Clifton
…do not
send me out
among strangers
- Sonia Sanchez
brothers,
this big woman
carries much sweetness
in the folds of her flesh.her hair
is white with wonderful.
she is
rounder than the moon
and far more faithful.
brother,
who will hold her,
who will find her beautiful
if you do not?
won’t you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.
No more words are required. In the parsimony of poetry, it’s all here. We have found one another and today it is enough just to be carried along “on this bridge between starshine and clay,” by a woman whose body is black and whose hair is “white with wonderful.”
Tim Scorer
is one of four program mentors in the Pacific Jubilee two-year SoulGuiding Program. He pursues the art of accompaniment through small group facilitation, spiritual accompaniment, small group exploration through poetry, and leadership of contemplative retreats. He stays grounded through engagement with three children and five grandchildren, a hillside garden on Bowen Island, BC, participation in the life of a faith community, and the pursuit of numerous interests and curiosities that are the fruit of a graced 55-year journey with Donna.
Read about Tim’s spiritual direction practice here.
