Water in the Wilderness

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, be with us sinners now and the hour of our death. Amen.”
After a moment, she said aloud, “Please keep Morley safe, Lord. Send him to me, I need ….” Her words cut off by another sharp pain, she cried out, “Dr. Rosthern, please hurry.”
Rachael knew she couldn’t go any further. Her feet and hands were blocks of wood. Her whole body felt as though it didn’t belong to her. To make matters worse, she was beginning to see things that weren’t there. Several times she had called out to Ronnie where he walked ahead of her breaking the trail.
“Ronnie, look,” she’d called, “there’s a house up ahead of us.”
But each time he had dashed her hopes. “No, there’s nothin’ … no buildings … nothin’.”
She had felt like crying but was too exhausted to do even that; anyway, her tears were all dried up.
She glanced at Bobby on Ronnie’s shoulders. Her brother had been quiet for a long time. His head had fallen forward, and he looked to be fast asleep.
Sleep – that’s what she needed. She absolutely could not go on another minute without sleep. She stopped walking, sank down on the snow and let her eyes close of their own accord.
“Rachael, get up. Get up.”
She struggled to open her eyes. Her mother was calling her. She must have overslept and she’d be late for school. She tried to sit up, but a heavy weight on her whole body seemed to be holding her down.
“Rachael, Rachael, please get up. You can’t go to sleep. We’ve got to keep moving or we’ll freeze.”
Ronnie stood over her, jolting her back to reality – the reality that seemed more dream that real. He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Bobby’s sleeping,” she said tonelessly. Actually, it made no difference to her whether she slept or whether she froze. She teetered on her …

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Ocean’s March

Where did the young girls’ orchestra go?
to the seashore garden where
at night the sailors drank
amid the trees
and pounded their feet in the air
for a gold coin of moon
in her hair behind the basil plants?
In the nights
only an enormous green reflection of the sea
roams on deserted steep rocks
We pass silently by
the dark rooms
opposite foggy mirrors
that don’t recognize us anymore
and we listen to the footsteps of silence
of the wind and of the sea
on our sleepy touch
It is something of the void’s safety –
a locked door at night
the sketch of a procession of cypresses
in the silver obscurity
of autumn starlight
And when the solitary full moon
rains resignation and forgetfulness
we open the window
and pray
God we thank you
that we are thus alone and sorrowful
so we may look at the sky without any awe
serene and endless like the firmament
forgotten and unrecognizable like the unknown

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562834

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763076

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

so that the next morning there they would be – mysteriously having arrived
out of nowhere.
Salvador thought it was a marvellous plan, but his reason for the visit
was to arrange a meeting with Albert Reichmann. It had to be planned
several months in advance, but it could be done.
At last! Ken stipulated that the meeting take place at the Reichmann
home on an afternoon when Salvador and his crew were working in the
garden. “And this is what I want you to say: ‘Mr. Albert, there’s the man
in the garden – the man I told you about. He’s been sent.’ Just use those
words.”
“Why would I say that?” Salvador asked.
“Because that’s what I want you to say.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I promise I’ll tell you when the meeting is over, but those are the
words that have to be used.”
“Give me some idea about why those particular words.”
“Right now I can’t, but I just know that those are the right words.
They’re magic words. Merlin put them in my ear.”
Salvador promised to say the exact words, but as Ken got up to continue
painting and looked back at him, smiling enigmatically, he admitted
to himself that he had no idea whether he would say those words – or
indeed, what he would say or do.
The fundraising campaign was a flop. Most of the corporations sent no
reply and the two that came were gracious refusals. “Send more letters,”
Ken said.
“But they’re not working,” Diane protested.
“It doesn’t matter. Send more anyway!”
The Canadian Cancer Society sent a letter asking for his help in their
own fundraising campaign. Would he donate a painting of an Inukshuk
for a raffle? He and the Premier of Ontario, David Peterson, would pick
the winner at a large media event. Ken saw an opportunity for more publicity
and cheerfully said yes.
On the last day of the campaign, he met with Peterson, an affable, witty
man who was also an art lover. He told Ken that he and his wife had attended
his show at the Columbus Centre, but by the time they had arrived
every painting was sold.
Ken invited him to his studio for a private showing – and a guarantee
that some paintings there would not have a sold sticker. A few days later,
Peterson and his wife arrived and lingered in the studio, taking in the
large paintings and the sketches of Isumataq. They picked out a canvas
and, while Diane and Peterson’s wife selected a frame, …

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562830

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Impulses

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Ode
How one chants ode to dust
under the tank belly vexing
bloomed crocuses crying
for their share of bitter omen
how to hymn an ode to dreams
spring never hatches while
sulfur and brimstone rising
out of hell camouflages helmets
adorns gun barrels
how to chant odes to the mother
of a soldier hugging death
night by night how can one
sing of glory purple hearts
and epode under the tank?

https://draft2digital.com/book/3744513

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073565

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“You too,” she said sincerely. “We’ll miss you.” She smiled at Vera who nodded. “There’s something I’d like to give you.” She reached into her purse and removed her wedding ring from where she had tucked it. “You might need this. Please take it. It brought me happiness for a while.” Paul nodded. Vera took the ring wordlessly. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Uh, aren’t you forgetting something else?” asked David.
“The leather jacket? It’s in my cabin—for you.” They all laughed.
“Hey, thanks. But I was actually thinking about what we should say to people back in Canada. Do you have any family at all, Paul?”
He shook his head.
“Any friends who might report you missing?”
“Not any who’d really care. Jen’s been my best friend. Oh, but you can tell Dr. Sommer at the Russian department what happened and tell her that she’s an excellent teacher. I couldn’t have done this without her. But otherwise, no, there is no one. My mother’s been dead a long time now, and so has my grandmother who was my guardian. My dad disappeared—probably because of gambling debts.”
By now Vera was crying openly. “You have family now,” she told him, and Jennifer was overjoyed to see how eagerly he hugged her.
★
Just three blocks away, their tour guide, Natasha Alexeyevna Kuchkov, was sitting on the warm cement buttress of a public fountain. Two other women dressed in sarafani, light cotton dresses, were dipping their bare feet in the fountain’s pool and giggling. Such behaviour was not for her. In any case, the telegram recently received from her director had induced a cooling effect right to the bone. Phone me directly you reach Ulyanovsk, it had ordered. They don’t know what it’s like in the field any more, she thought. When we arrive, I have visits to organize, vouchers to fill in, local staff to supervise. How much time do they think I have?
Thus she had been almost relieved when the rebellious students asked for some afternoon time off, though she wouldn’t admit as much to them. It had given her an opportunity to find the nearest postal and telegraph office where the long distance phone booths were located. She dialled her director on his personal private line and after some buzzing, whining, and several hang-up clicks, she was finally put through.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Unquiet Land

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“He’s given them up. He doesn’t like Dublin very much anymore. He wants to stay in the village and work in the quarry again. He says that’s the only life for him.”
“Oh Nora, that’s wonderful news.” Mother Ross was almost weeping. “I didn’t want you to go to Dublin. It’s so far away. I think that was worrying your father too. He was beginning to think you’d leave and he’d never see you or Dermot again.”
“He’s silly, Mammy.”
“He’s old, Nora. You said so yourself.”
The two fell silent, each distracted by separate thoughts of Finn MacLir.
Then Mother Ross sighed, sipped her tea, and stirred in another spoonful of sugar. “There’s shortbread in the biscuit tin by your elbow.”
“No thank you. The tea’s fine on its own.”
“Push the tin over here then,” Mother Ross said. “I’ll have some.”
Nora did as her stepmother requested. “I think you’re eating too much, Mammy.”
“Oh, don’t you start, Nora. I get enough of that from Dr Starkey.” Mother Ross took a bite from her wedge of shortbread, ate it with obvious relish and then said, “So Flynn’s decided to stay in the village. The big city’s not for him after all.”
“No. He keeps thinking he ought to be in Dublin. His Uncle Finnegan there is very fond of him. But every time he goes to Dublin he gets homesick for the mountains. He’s up at the quarry now to see about keeping his job there. He’s been in Dublin since the general election in December, over two months now. But they’ll take him back. He’s a good worker. He’s a Drumard stone-man, Mammy. He’ll always be a Drumard stone-man.”
Or stone dead. The thought rushed unbidden into Mother Ross’s head, but unlike the voluble palm reader her tongue refused to give it utterance. Nevertheless she felt impelled to say something, if only to warn Nora. Perhaps she should talk to her husband and remind him that his responsibilities to her and their son were greater than his commitment to Republican idealism.
“I’d be a lot happier,” she said, “if Flynn Casey wasn’t also Rebel Casey.” Mother Ross clasped her stepdaughter’s hand to emphasise the seriousness of her words. “Nora, I’m very fond of Flynn. I know that a lot of people don’t like him, and perhaps some of them have good cause not to. But, Nora, there’s a mood in the country. An ugly mood. If there’s going to be trouble, Flynn’s going to be mixed up in it, and I’m afraid for both of you. And for little Dermot.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

13


IT’S FRIDAY, the last day of September, and Emily and Talal’s flight to
Baghdad is scheduled for four in the afternoon. They have to get to the
airport two hours earlier to check their bags. Emily hasn’t flown for a few
years, and the thought of the long flight makes her nervous. Even though she
knows Talal will be beside her, she has been jumpy since morning. Talal was
up earlier, so he prepared the breakfast then went back to bed before she was
up, and even his intention of a fun morning of lovemaking was turned down
by Emily.
“What is it, my love?” he asks her when she gets up.
He notices tears in her eyes, takes her in his arms and asks again, “What is it,
my love?”
“I’m scared. I don’t know why I have such a bad feeling this morning. I’m
thinking about the long flight, and it is making me paranoid. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart, for being apprehensive; most
people are, although they don’t like to talk about it. However flight security has
improved so much over the past several years, we’ll be very safe. Please don’t feel
bad; we’re going to have a nice flight, you’ll see. And don’t forget I’ll be with you
all the way, so don’t worry.”
They sit and have a light breakfast but Emily has a hard time getting her food
down. She tries to relax and her mood improves only when Talal comments on
how pretty she looks this morning. Her shoulder-length hair is done up and held
with a clip, her eyes are the brightest he has ever seen them, the skin on her face is
so smooth and balanced; he is mesmerized by a feeling of love and caring for this
forty-seven-year-old woman whose body he has explored to the innermost detail
during the time that they have been together. Talal is extremely happy he will be
able to introduce her to his motherland as well as to his brother and sister and
grandfather. Yet, he wonders how she is going to see Iraq, sincel the war and its
aftermath.
Emily takes her watering can around the house to water the plants before
they go. Talal’s phone rings; it is Hakim.
“Hey.”
“Hi, are you coming to pick us up?”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

In the Quiet After Slaughter

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

Back on the road, rain-streaked fronds slapping at the windshield,
parrots screeching in the jacaranda trees, Paco asks if Witherspoon
would care to meet his fiancée, Carmela.
– A little detour, he says. It’s not far.
They arrive after nightfall. The settlement is without electricity;
oil-fueled torches illuminate the village’s muddy streets. Witherspoon
unfolds a map on the hood of the Datsun and searches with his flashlight.
– What do you call this place again?
– Absolución, Paco says. It means — he consults his phrasebook
— forgiveness.
Carmela’s folks operate a popular eatery. It has a thatched roof, a
fire smoldering in the stone hearth. The food is superb and the
fiancée as lovely as Paco had claimed. She has copper skin that in the
glow of the charcoal embers shines like a newly minted coin.
– Carmela has two sisters, Paco says. Look.
There’s an enclosure walled in by mosquito netting at the rear of
the family compound. Witherspoon is able to make out a pair of silhouettes.
One sister sways in a hammock, an arm lazily draped over
the side as though her fingers trail through water. The other is
perched on a stool. She is raking a brush through her hair, the back
arched like half a parenthesis, thighs spread.
The Canadian thinks to himself: Forgiveness. What a strange
name for a village.
A backlog of vehicles has been idled by the roadblock. Lined up
around the bend are a few squeaky transport trucks, a second-class
bus with threadbare tires, a taxi painted with dust. Youngsters
trickle from the jungle to sell refreshments to the inconvenienced.
His guard off scrounging a cigarette, Witherspoon stole a glimpse
of the swelling crowd. Some huddled in the shade, readying their
bribes. Others made the sign of the cross, wincing with every blow
administered to Witherspoon’s new friend. The ballplayer supposed
all were as terrified as he—evidently the point of the delay.
The welts on Paco’s face were beginning to change colour.
Witherspoon wondered how much more his friend could endure—
wondered how much he himself could endure. And was he next?

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562874

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897971

Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Glorifying Hymn For the Women we Love
the women we love are like pomegranates
they come and find us
during the night
when it rains
they erase our loneliness with their breasts
they dive deep in our hair
and decorate it
like tears
like gleaming shores
like pomegranates
the women we love are swans
their parks
live only in our hearts
their feathers are
the feathers of angels
their statues are our bodies
the beautiful tree lines are the same
as they are on the tips of their toes
erect
they come near us
as if swans kiss us
on our eyes
the women we love are lakes
among their reads
their fiery lips whistle
our beautiful birds swim in their waters
and then
when they fly away

https://draft2digital.com/book/3744799

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Katerina Anghelaki Rooke – Selected Poems

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Where I Was Born one Could Lose everything
In the place I was born one could
lose everything.
Time eats the words
and from inside the words
the ravaged eyes are spent
even the kisses
and the need to suffer.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562965

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763521