stranger gifts

again, more strangers to the rescue.

this one in the form of an 86 year old female poet. i hosted a read on monday night and read a poem i wrote over the weekend. it had some erotic imagery and i told the group,

this is for matrue audiences.

most of them sat with their eyes closed listening (which is very encouraging to me, it is how i listen and the only way i can truly hear. even then sometimes, my mind wanders though i try to keep it fixed on the words. sometimes, if a poet intros their work as, this is haiku, i count syllables. grrr. i don't try to, it just happens. i lose the poem in the counting of syllables. so i try to fix on the words, or if it is short, as haiku are, i ask for it to be reread. confess my sin and move on.

i was counting syllables, can you read it again.

most do not mind reading their works again.).

so i intro this piece and read it. eyes open slowly as i sit and look around the room. some silence, but then an articulate man in his 40s, who is a young poet in terms of length of time practicing but his work is the bomb says,

read that part again.

and so i did.

it stumbled there,

(not his words, mine).

and the 86 year old poet beside me surprised me by saying, in a quavering voice,

i don't think that way, but i think i should.

which i took as high praise.

the poem is about fantasy versus reality. living in my head versus living my life. how unreal the one is though it can seem so real.

it is essentially declaring the fantasy dead. which is a big thing for me and i'm glad it came through in the poem. life is not about castles in the clouds. about imagined intimacies or dreamlife. it is about the flesh and blood husband, my flesh and blood child, my flesh and blood friends whom i can actually talk to and who talk to me. it is about being present to those present in my life. even those strangers who are just coming on to the scene. i must be present so i can recieve them well and give to them of the bounty that has been given me.

i am told my message of late has changed. that it is not about God any longer. that i am searching for God (looking for love) in all the wrong places. (oh how i love a cheesy songline). it is not true. it has not changed for me. though i may be willing to speak in real time of real doubt and real concern. it has always been that way for me.

and where i err, where i fail, where i depart the path (or am kicked off the path as the case may be), there will always be the kindness of strangers to encourage me. to give me heart (hearten me). stranger gifts than these i have recieved. perhaps i can be this kind of heartening stranger to whomever i meet. that is my hope anyway.