As faithful readers are aware, I occasionally post my newly-written poems here. A few days ago, we drove out to Tautira, one of those delightful "end-of-the-beach-road" towns (literally -- the road stops at Tautira, and what is beyond is Tahitian jungle and the walls and caldera of the ancient volcano whose continuous eruption created Tahiti Iti, the eastern side of Tahiti). All these kinds of towns -- whether in the Outer Banks, Cape Cod, Kauai, or here, possess the same kind of look-and-feel -- a sense of easiness (distinct, if credible, from the generic sense of easiness on this island), and a palpable sense of temporary-ness, as if the sea could wash it away.
As we drove, Jennifer shared with me her fascination about the process of island creation, where volcanos rise from the sea bed and eventually breach the surface to create an island. There are over 5,000 of these so-called "submarine volcanos," and many of them are here in the Pacific (Rim of Fire). In fact, when we sail to Tonga, we will make a point of sailing over one, and when we get to Vanuatu, we will anchor on the windward side of a active (emitting steam and ash) volcano. Hot stuff.
Her musings took the form of a request to God to let her see an island form, and her musings led me to play around with the concept ... (for earlier poems in this continuing series centered on our sailing, see here, and here.
The God I Asked
When I asked the God I asked "Let me see the mountain erupt from the sea,"
The God I asked rolled back the centuries and revealed the lifting mountain peak.
So I asked the God I asked "When did that mountain first come up from the sea?"
And the God I asked counted the layers of stone like rings on a tree
Until the God I asked lost count of the days and months and years.
So I asked the God I asked another question maybe easier this time:
God I asked, "Before my time is done,
Will you lay me down on that mountain top and let me rise up through the sea
So that I can count each and every day I see the sky above me?"
Jon Glaudemans
July 2010
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4 comments:
Nature has been an inspiration for poets throughout the ages. There is much to contemplate in your words.
Bastille Day greetings from one corner of France to another! Michael gave me the link, and I see you're sailing on a French-built boat. If ever you need someone to contact anyone over here, including speaking to them in "colorful" French, don't hesitate to ask.
Also, if China will be in your path, Piers now lives in Shanghai and has traveled extensively in China and speaks the lingo. He would be happy to give you some travel tips, as well as show you around Shanghai.
Have fun in the south pacific!
Tim Carlson
Great to hear from you and a big hug to you and Ruth! Thanks for the offer of help, we never know when we might need it. We'll be in the Mediterranean from mid 2011-2012 so may be we can connect. Piers in Shanghai....wow. All the best my friend.
I'm sure we could find our way to the Mediterranean whenever you get there. Looking forward to it!
Keep in touch,
Tim
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