Because We All Need A Little Poetry In Our Lives

When I was in high school, I was lucky enough to have the best English teacher in the world (in my opinion at least). Mrs Fisher came to Durban Girls High School from the University of KwaZulu Natal where she had taught English for many years.

She was witty, talking in a posh English accent despite the fact that she was Afrikaans by birth; she wore fishnet stockings under her long dresses (at our uber conservative school); she said funny things like, "only the best ladies shop at Foschini's"; she spent much of our lessons playing the devil's advocate whilst debating whatever topic she'd thought of that day and most of all she encouraged each of her students to challenge themselves and be more.

Mrs Fisher was the reason I read all of "Worldscapes - A collection of verse compiled by Robin Malan" (which was our set book for poetry) for fun and she also encouraged me in my creative writing, which I enjoyed so much.

I recently finished reading "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed for the second time, which should tell you how much I loved it. A story focussing on one woman's search to find herself whilst hiking the Pacific Crest Mountain Trail. The lead character (the author) made me think of the following poem which you can find in the worldscapes book.  It's beautiful.

Song - Adrienne Rich

You're wondering if I'm lonely:
OK then, yes, I'm lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean

You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely

If I'm lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawn's first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep

If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning

My happy place - Durban Botanical Gardens