Once in a while at random I pull down a book of poetry from the shelf. Like stabbing a finger to a map to choose a chance destination I flip the book open to a random page. Without judgment or censorship, I share what I find there with you.
I’d love to hear what you think, your reactions, what feelings or memories the piece evokes.
Sometimes we are led through the doorway
by a child, sometimes
by a stranger, always a matter of grace changing
the past, for if there is anything we must change
it is the past. To look back
and see another map.
Love enough to fill
a shoe, a suitcase, a bit of ink,
a painting, a child’s eyes at the chalkboard,
a bit of chalk, a bit of
bone in ash.
All that is cupped,
all that is emptied
the rush of water from a pump,
a word spelled out
on the palm.
Publisher: The Griffin Poetry Prize Anthology 2014, House of Anansi Press
Publisher: Correspondences, McClelland & Stewart