It’s the day after Thanksgiving. I awoke with the beginning of a migraine, and for a little while I felt sad, down in my heart.
I am grateful for the medicine that lifts the veil so that I can think with clarity and curiosity again.
I like to read the catalog of workshops offered by Maine Media. Earlier this week, I noticed an online class, the photo-poetic project, taught by one of my favorite photographers, Janelle Lynch. Here is the description:
Photography, like poetry, is a language that speaks to our hearts as well as our minds. It can be precise and detailed, but not the language of mere fact. It holds the unsayable and the complexity of human experience. This workshop will use short poems and other prompts as a springboard toward creating a suite of images of personal and universal significance.
Discussions about the creative process will support students’ connection to discovering their unique voice and vision. Critiques will allow space for constructive feedback, the development of aesthetic principles and technical skills. Extensive followup notes will introduce students to a range of historical and contemporary practitioners. Familiarity with poetry is not necessary. Play, joy, and experimentation will be encouraged.
Doesn’t this sound wonderful?
I’d love to take this class, but the price may be out of reach for our budget. Still, the idea of photographs as poems suits me. Immediately, I think of my friend, Janice Falls and her online space, Heart Poems. Without fail, the poems she chooses to feature are those that speak to me. She does the work of finding poems, sharing them with her readers with hospitality and grace. What a beautiful offering. I wonder if I might do this work—use short poems and other prompts as a springboard toward creating a suite of images of personal and universal significance—on my own. Could there be a way to make this a collaborative project? I consider writing to Janice to see if she would mind if I use her heart poems as my prompts.
I visit the library to look for books of poetry. I find two that I love right away.
homebody by rupi kaur
and
How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope, Edited by James Crews
While I am waiting for the migraine medicine to do its work, I read poetry and sip hot coffee. I read this one out loud to my husband. I can barely hold back tears and when I look over at him, he is crying, too. These are tears of joy for us both, a watershed moment.
THANKSGIVING FOR TWO
by Marjorie Saiser
The adults we call our children will not be arriving
with their children in tow for Thanksgiving.
We must make our feast ourselves,
slice our half-ham, indulge, fill our plates,
potatoes and green beans
carried to our table near the window.
We are the feast, plenty of years,
arguments. I’m thinking the whole bundle of it
rolls out like a white tablecloth. We wanted
to be good company for one another.
Little did we know that first picnic
how this would go. Your hair was thick,
mine long and easy; we climbed a bluff
to look over a storybook plain. We chose
our spot as high as we could, to see
the river and the checkerboard fields.
What we didn’t see was this day, in
our pajamas if we want to,
wrinkled hands strong, wine
in juice glasses, toasting
whatever’s next,
the decades of side-by-side,
our great good luck.
Out of the blue, I receive a lovely message from Janice—full of encouragement and kindness. I take this as a sign that I am on the right path. I will write back with gratitude.
