02 May 2012

breakers

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III

You see those breakers coming around Pigeon Island
bowing like nuns in a procession? One thing I know,
when you're gone like my other friends, not to Thailand
or Russia, but wherever it is loved friends go
with their different beliefs, who were like a flock
of seagulls leaving the mirror of the sand,
or a bittern passing lonely Barrel of Beef,
or the sails that an egret hoists leaving its rock;
I go down to the same sea by another road
with manchineel shadows and stunted sea grapes
dwarfed by the wind. I carry something to read:
the wind is bright and shadows race like grief,
I open their books and see their distant shapes
approaching and always arriving, their voices heard
in the page of a cloud, like the soft surf in my head.


from "The Acacia Trees" by Derek Walcott

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6 comments:

  1. The imagery in this poem is so wonderful, I can picture exactly what he means.

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  2. only just found your blog and i love it
    just brilliant







    isabelle
    drinkteabecontent.blogspot.com

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  3. my boyfriend could read derek walcott for days. but, after reading this, i feel like maybe i should try to.

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  4. This is lovely. I need to read more Walcott. Looking forward to giving Omeros a stab a some point.

    And yes to salt as hangover cure (and at all other times too)!

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  5. I've had to read this through several times because it resonates so strongly with me - and because it's simply lovely. I've never come across it before - thank you.

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  6. Hila - Yes!

    Isabelle - Thank you so much!

    Jessica - I only just discovered him, I think I need to as well.

    Chuck - I haven't read that, adding it to my list...thanks!

    Kate - Same, there's just something about it, I can't stop reading it. Thanks so much for your comment.

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