Why is it I think only of the light
Leaving? Soon, after the longest day
We head toward the dark. “Don’t leave
Before you leave”, the wise poet tells us,
But I have already packed my bags,
changed my address, ordered the taxi.
—On the Summer Solstice, by Barbara Pelman
The next gathering of the Churchmouse After Hours Coffeehouse returns on June 21. On this National Indigenous People’s Day and on the day after Summer Solstice, we offer the theme of “Letting in More Light.” Let’s shine a light on Indigenous literature spreading the light of knowledge, and on love of place as we consider this beloved earth, tilting at its greatest angle towards our shared sun.
Come and share a favourite song, poem, or short tale of 3-5 minutes written by someone other than yourself. Or just come to listen and enjoy!
After Hours is a monthly neighbourhood coffeehouse with songs, stories, poems and prose on a rotating theme. All are welcome to listen or join in. Note: this is not a literary open mic. Though local authors do participate, we are all readers sharing work we enjoy and admire. We meet on the third Saturday of most months at 1:30 pm at Churchmouse Bookshop in St Mary’s, Oak Bay, 1701 Elgin Rd., and are hosted by Cynthia Woodman Kerkham and Yvonne Blomer.
Subscribe below and select the Churchmouse Newsletter group to get regular updates on upcoming dates and themes.
And here are some poetic tasters....
Remember
by Joy Harjo
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.
Reconciliation
by Jónína Kirton
how will I reconcile myself?
the Icelander and the métis
the settler and the
Indigenous
an ally to myself
since birth flung across a
chasm
I often wonder am I to
forever be
the way across
weak anchors at each end
my spine a flexible deck
load-bearing
and within my cables too
much tension
as some try to cross
we all swing wildly
in each other’s steps
without safety nets
the waves of emotion
threaten us all
and then there are times
that both sides seek to disown
to cut my cords
let me fall to the rushing
waters below
maybe one day I will just float away
see where the water takes me
but not today
today I will rebuild
this time no quick fixes no steel cables
or wooden planks
no rust no rot
no nails necessary
but rather the slow growth of twisted roots
from ancient trees
the way across a path
made of grandfather
grandmother stones
I will become a self-sustaining structure
gain strength over time
a living root bridge that lasts five hundred years