For perhaps the first time in the history of my poetry, I’m writing about something topical. You might have heard about this volcanic ash that is sweeping Europe right now and forcing airlines to cancel all flights to the surrounding areas. It’s chaos. Don’t expect anything but the busy signal when you try calling Air Canada.
As many of you know, I was supposed to leave for the United Kingdom on Thursday afternoon. Obviously, my flight was canceled. I have been feeling very sorry for myself over the last few days because this trip was important to me, and now everything feels very uncertain. I’ve also been thinking about the hundreds of thousands of people who are stuck in one place or another, who are unable to see their loved ones and have no idea when things will clear up. It’s frustrating because there’s nothing that can be done; there’s no one to blame; and there’s no knowing what will happen next.
That same evening when I should have been on a plane flying across the Atlantic, my friend Paul accompanied me to a poetry show. (You know someone is a good friend when they will spend time with you even when you’re in a destructive mood.) I was so inspired by the evening’s performances — especially some new poems by the incredible Kevin Matthews — that I felt the need to dash home and write something positive, perhaps even uplifting.
The next afternoon, I received a call from CBC Radio 1, asking if I would come in to the studio and talk about my experience on All in a Day with Alan Neal. Guess they had been following my Twitter updates. I had about 15 minutes to get from the Glebe to the top on Bank Street — during rush hour. Amazingly, I made it. On air, Alan and I conversed for a couple of minutes, and then I performed the (rather personal) poem I had written the night before.
And I used this opportunity to promote my upcoming poetry show with Nadine Thornhill with the Dusty Owl Reading Series on May 2. C’mon, I’m only human.
Anyway, here is the poem…
~~~
Dear Volcanic Ash
Dear Icelandic shards that clouded the European airspace
That forced Air Canada to cancel my trip to the UK
That prevented me from seeing that someone I love and adore
More than space never stopped us before
But now the price of distance is this
I’ve missed my chance to see her up close
When I yearned for her the most
And I’m not here to place blame
On any natural disaster
Even though this feels disastrous to me
On this hard-hearted day
I promise not to complain
I only wanted to say
Thank you
For teaching me patience
Because even though this hurts more than words can show
I know that when we finally come face to face
These feelings of hate will dissolve
And I will be so so grateful
That I will kiss her that much more fondly
And it will be as beautiful as a third kiss should be
Our embrace will be so steaming hot
That volcanic streaks will appear as mere brush strokes around us
Splashing blood orange vermillion between us
And I would repeat
Thank you
For teaching me patience
Because now I know what it means to be devoted
Because I have waited this long
And I will wait three thousand weeks longer
To be with you
And whether or not this makes us stronger
It will make us remember that we conquered volcanoes to be together
That we dove into burning hot lava
And reemerged untainted
Save for a splatter of colour
That remains a blush in your cheeks
That sustains a flush in my fingertips out of reach
Reaching toward you
No matter how far you might be
And I see
That this has taught me patience
So that if ever I forget to adore you every day
This foray into the power of staying
Will remind me
That you are worth waiting for
And for you I will wait
Till dawn breaks
Till my heavy heart breaks
Until the intensity of these trials
Breaks my weary back
Back to the beginning
I would start again for you
From the beginning
At the beginning of all things
When there are so many possibilities
And I can choose only one
I will choose to wait
For you
Hi, Jessica,
I heard your poem today on CBC Radio 1. I found it a passionate and positive response to the disruptions caused by volcanic ash.
I heard you in the car on my way home today and told my wife, Margaret, about it as soon as I got here. Margaret and I were both very active in community theatre although we have not been for some time. We still do a lot as audience members and volunteers and appreciate your eclectic and exhaustive arts updates.
Your passion really speaks to us. I hope your visit is not thwarted by other disasters.
Donald
Donald,
That is so nice to hear. Thank you. It’s also lovely to hear that you and your wife are involved in the arts community.
My trip is re-booked for May 4, so hopefully everything is running smoothly by then!
Hi Jessica,
I heard (or rather felt) your Dear Volcanic Ash poem on Friday on the way home from work.
I was so moved by your delivery – I spent much of the weekend googling you in an effort to find the aforementioned poem.
Just now I was googling you again so to find the correct spelling of your name so that I could contact CBC for more information.
I was delighted to see that your poem is available online. I wanted to write and simply tell you how talented I think you are.
So now I am going to switch back to your poem and immerse myself in your words.
Thank you,
Tonya
Tonya,
Congrats on finding me, despite my unusual name! So glad you enjoyed the poem; it’s one of my favourites and I think it captured exactly how I was feeling, and still feel, about the situation. Though part of me is nonetheless irrationally angry at that stupid volcano.
Another positive response to the volcanic ash happening, written by a fellow Canterbury graduate!
http://www.ottawacitizen.com/news/todays-paper/Getting+grounded/2946784/story.html
In addition to everything else, this volcano is a reminder that cheap and easy air travel is not a situation that humanity has enjoyed for long. Indeed, there are at least a couple of reasons for thinking we might live to see the end of it.
Namely, when we finally start getting serious about climate change mitigation, and when declining fossil fuel availability and energy return on investment makes it prohibitively costly.
That’s definitely something I’ve been wondering about lately, Milan. What is the best way of getting around? What are our options?
Taking a boat across the ocean sounds absurd, but that is the way people used to travel. Will that become another viable option anytime soon? We’re just so accustomed to getting places as quickly as possible, as time is precious.
Ships are actually worse than planes, in terms of emissions per passenger-kilometre.
My suspicion is that the future will simply involve a lot less long-distance travel, at least until we have enormously more renewable energy stations than now, and electrified transcontinental train lines to go with them.
This may also interest you: Air travel and the end of oil
[...] one of the loveliest things that has ever happened to me. And then I performed a couple of poems: Dear Volcanic Ash and It Speaks Volumes — since, let’s just say, I’ve been in a romantic mood these [...]