Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Haunting Lesson

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Haunting Lesson ((http://www.persimmontree.org/)

The cure tested for generations
on West African shores
remains only a threat today
on some Caribbean Isles.

Elders used to string tin cans
on twines and ropes and tie them
round tiny waists and ankles.

The tins clang-clanged
as children goaded with “goan, goan”
were paraded through village streets.

Heads hung, salty tears
streaked small black faces
in the morning’s island breeze.

Villagers watched.
There was no need for cardboard signs.
The clanging said it all:
BEDWETTERS.

© Althea Romeo-Mark       29. 11. 2010


Poem „Haunting Lesson“ was selected for Persimmon Tree Fall Issue 2012 (http://www.persimmontree.org/)
International Poets
Selected by
Fleda Brown, Guest Editor



      The poems in this International Issue of Persimmon Tree are certainly aware of aging — but always from a perspective of intense interest, of a sense of renewal and re-invention. The issue begins with two simple and subtle poems by Eva Eliav that, appropriately, “fall awake” into age. Chellis Glendinning explores the slippage of language in translation and in life in which it is possible for a poem to appear. Margo Berdeshevsky’s poem considers the cost of being human, of struggling with memories of difficult mothers. Jo Milgrom’s poem is up there, on a high wire, testing the idea of immortality. Katharine O’Flynn touchingly connects past and present with orange lilies, while Lalita Noronha playfully compares our lifetime to that of insects. Lois Elaine Heckman’s sonnet uses cutting hair as metaphor for cutting away the past. For Venie Holmgren, it is the wind that is full of the past and for Althea Romeo-Mark, what passes from generation to generation is not necessarily a good thing. Barbara A Taylor sees the rest of her life in the rich movements of everyday activities, all of it a steady letting go of the past. Mori Glaser closes the door against a past she doesn’t want any more, one that feels now like a dream. And in Malinda Crispin’s poem, which is the dream and which is real? They’re tangled in a wonderfully shimmering way.

     Led by these rich and varied approaches to growing old — to holding onto and letting go of the past — I have concluded this issue attempting to do the same, by means of the poor baffled squirrels in my poem.



 



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