COLLABORATION

Spring is here-though you would not think so from these photographs I took last Saturday. My Grandmother used to say that the month of March Comes in like a lion, leaves like a lamb.  Or if it was sunny at the start of the month she would reverse the saying. This year March has been a lion.

I have been collaborating with Alison Wilson for a while now on a number of different projects that combine poetry with her amazing art work. Here are a couple of Haiku’s she asked me to write about leaves. Her aim was to produce some postcards for an art fair that had prints of leaves on them.

enlightenment is

constantly in front of you

but you must see it

this leaf translates light

be it wave or particle

photosynthesis

silent witnesses

tree of life, tree of knowledge

quiet energy

theirs is beauty from

before brain or language

grew inside our heads

celebrate today

for it is all we can have

this eternal now

laugh, jump, sing, run, kiss

swim, hug, climb, play, touch, smile, love

celebrate this day

OK, there are more than a couple. Recently Alison has been in Mexico working and sending me some images and once more asking for words, this time related to Mexico

I had been reading around the subject and I came across a story of the time before the Mexica-as the Aztecs called themselves, dominated Central America. When they were mercenaries for the city states that succeeded the Toltec Empire, so the story goes, the leader of the Mexica asked the lord of one of the Toltec city states for his daughter in marriage.  He agrees and the woman is sent to the Mexica.

Three days later the lord goes to celebrate the marriage of his daughter with the Mexica, but she is not there. Odd thinks the lord, then a priest appears wearing her skin. This was apparently viewed by the Mexica as an honour.  Needless to say the lord was horrified and drove the Mexica away.

This is a disturbing, horrific image. I made me reflect on the Spanish conquest of Central America and all of the terrible things that were committed over the centuries. It seemed to me that the indigenous peoples had to wear the veneer, the skin if you like, of the coloniser in order to survive. That all expressions of their own culture would have to be covert; carried out behind the veil of the imposed culture.

That is the genesis of this poem. It has not title.

he wore her skin

the day her father called

there would be no celebration of marriage

just this priest

draped in his daughters flayed flesh

button on repeat

there would be other skins

survival camouflage that enabled them

to craft Christ’s imbued

with the full horror of their wounds

none of this is what it seems

I would like your thoughts on this poem.

To end on a more joyous note here is Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz playing It Might as Well Be Spring. 

I cannot flag up Brazilian music without mentioning the late great Elis Regina, one of the best singers I have ever heard. Here she is singing The Waters of March with Tom Jobim. Enjoy.

Have a good week.