Sometimes, a poem can strike so deeply as to leave you speechless. It is often personal: the subject matter unearths a buried chord or a voice speaks like one you have heard before, calling memories out to play. It may be – variously – rhyme, rhythm, length, word choice. It might also depend on where one is, literally or metaphorically, at the time of reading. This is a wordy introduction to my favourite piece from Prayers of a Secular World because, frankly, Daniela Giorgi’s ‘Sea Fox’ has left me as close to speechless (and almost breathless) as I can get. It sings to me on every level in six succinct stanzas. My partner rarely reads poems (not even those written by me) but this is a poem I knew would resonate. When he agreed (with a sigh of resignation) to listen to a ‘Sea Fox’ reading, it took him a moment to find his voice. When he finally spoke it was to ask me to read it again. I hope you can hear my applause, Daniela Giorgi. Bravo.
I was initially daunted by what seemed a rather earnest and high-brow title. Prayers of a Secular World. But the poems and meditations are all accessible and inclusive. What a surprise to receive this beautifully designed (Sandy Cull, gogoGingko) compact book with a forward by Inkerman and Blunt publisher Donna Ward and an introduction by author and intellectual powerhouse David Tacey who reminds us that sacredness is a ‘dimension of the everyday’ rather than something to be celebrated at special times in holy buildings.
Aboriginal culture has never separated the sacred from the ordinary but finds it embedded in the everyday. (10)
Tacey tells us that we can bring a greater awareness into our own lives by thinking like poets.
The poems and contemplations in this volume are separated into six sections. There is something here for everyone but, in keeping with my opening remarks about the personal call of a poem, I’m going to tell you a little something about my favourites in each section.
See the Dreaming Claim You
Maya Ward’s ‘Powerful Owl’ gets its claws into the subterranean layer of my soul. It is dark and potent, the stuff of dreams.
My mind was forged in the crucible of you
And my spine is a tree
Where you have perched
For thousands of years (14)
A Mantra That Will Keep Us
Every word in ‘The Sadhu’ by David Francis seems perfectly chosen, mulled over, repositioned perhaps. The effort put into the writing makes the reading effortless so that I was transported into the world of this journeyman of landscapes. I felt as though I was standing before a perfect portrait in a quiet gallery, seeing the sacred mountains. And then I felt myself breathing the thin mountain air. Now I can taste the rice and hear the bells. If I close my eyes, is it possible that I might see the mysteries and grace beyond the narrow path of the present? Maybe.
‘The Sea Fox’, as already mentioned, is my favourite. Giorgi’s metaphoric transportation of expressions between the pain-racked body, the surroundings (You pace the raw metres of our flat, it’s three a.m) and the thoughts of the partner (My brain is dry, red, sore, scratched by empathy) (42) is brilliant.
It was very hard to narrow down my favourites in this section. ‘Don’t’ by Matt Hetherington is clever and poignant; a diamond. Ali Alizadeh brings perfect rhythm to a yearning for love in ‘Venus’. As a mother, I am transfixed by ‘First Night’. Anna Ryan-Punch captures the deftness of the midwives and nurses, the mystery of babies and the re-arrangement of a mother.
Midwives relieve me of your squalling
head. I am as glad and guilty as Catholic steak
on Good Friday. Soon they will bring back your limbs
that I made … (54)
The Delicate Formation of Faults
As I indicated in my opening, sometimes the connection with a poem might have something to do with where the reader is reading and so I don’t doubt that ‘No End to Images’ by Sarah Holland-Batt has a particularly literal connection for me. I read it on a boat on the Danube so no surprise that lines like no end to iron shoes along he Danube and no end to the gardens of Europe/with their murderous symmetry (78) hit their mark. For the same reason ‘Folding Down Corners’ (Anna Ryan-Punch) and ‘Photographs of Jews’ (Lisa Jacobson) spoke to me clearly.
The Shadow of the World
Catherine Bateson’s ‘Imperfection’ brought to mind Leonard Cohen’s ‘Anthem’. Cohen reminds us that the cracks let the light in. Bateson draws our eye to the beauty of a hand-embroidered orange nasturtium that … here, in the left hand corner/can never match its yellow twin (95).
Believe There’s a Road to El Paso
Judy Johnson’s ‘Swans’ is a stand-out for me, mainly because it made me laugh. Her beautiful poetic descriptions of the majesty of swans morphs into the comedy of the momentary glitches of the propellers of their feet failing to launch like the frenzied paddles of a waterwheel and their absurd cries half bugle, half air brake. Toward the end, the poem is deeply philosophical: The soul we do not believe in, suddenly/believes in us, and flutters in terror (138-139). And her final stanza, which I won’t quote here, is divine. You need to read the whole poem to fully appreciate its depth and beauty.
I have a weird habit. Whenever I finish reviewing a collection of poems or short stories, I go back through to see a) what my favourite pieces have in common, b) what I know about the authors, c) if there are any themes I seem to be leaning toward. I usually find that my choices are eclectic, unbiased and fun to analyse. And this time it’s no different. Many of the writers are unknown to me, the subject matters are vastly different and yet – on some level – linked.
There’s something for everyone in this beautiful gold-embossed collection. For more information, head to the Inkerman and Blunt website
Albiston, J and Brophy E, eds.
Prayers of a Secular World
Inkerman and Blunt, Carlton South.
ISBN: 978 0 9875401 9 5