Walcott Nassau Evening
for Sonia Farmer and Marion Bethel

in Ezra Pound's "Moeurs Contemporaines"
"the friend of the second daughter was undergoing a novel"

this night to undergo, I've undergone it now
evening with Derek Walcott on New Providence
at The College of the Bahamas

anticipated, waited, prepared psychologically
more than otherwise

did not have my hair done, my nails done
did not buy a new dress or new shoes

I wanted to be ready, I wanted to have appetite
for every part he came with, for all his bits and pieces

for all it was to mean, wanted to get from it
all there was to get, to take, wanted to be in step mentally

in steps in terms of the steps I actually make
to be able to walk with him
while he walked us through Walcott
or drove us or dragged us, horse and carriage-like
or upon his back

is this Hemingway though, in WW I,
carrying a wounded soldier, shot in battle, out of harms way
is Walcott's heroism attained otherwise

no less warrior-like, his poetry takes no hostages
mercilessly direct, tells truth, leaves you to gape at it in awe

wanted to be ready to gather in what he dished up
the wheat of his words, whatever he slashed down

it is time with its scythe though, gathering us in
Governor General, A.D. Hanna, his wife's funeral tomorrow
giants among us, fall down, get up until they can no longer

what Walcott has gotten up with, what he drags along
like W.B. Yeats in "A Woman's Beauty," in which he wonders
"What wounds, what bloody press/ Dragged into being
This loveliness?"

“Writin yur lil poem, ah?” I am from time to time asked
I think of bur Bucky and Bra Whale, the pulling match they had

Walcott wanting to pull us forth and what wants or who wants
to pull us back
he is determined not to let them

pulls for the Caribbean first, we are down under,
beneath the underdog
he pulls though for humanity, pulls for the human race

wonderful that this gift, his gifts belong first to us
our brother, our uncle, our literary dad

not come to us from far away or from long ago
here, now, indicating what is possible
for Caribbean children, Caribbean people

this to link to Usain Bolt, like lightning out of Jamaica
fastest man since the Games begun
at Olympia, in Greece, in 776 BC

Walcott, tall as Homer, tall as Dante, with his Shakespeare powers

with language, with the best who have ever used it,
wrenches life around
we turn our heads to listen, to look, to be amazed

see him standing, I see Rodin's Balzac
approach him, I touch him, I tell him
we met in Guyana, I am a poet too
I don't know if he believes me

given him two books of mine to attempt to convince him

writing what I've written here
to attempt to convince myself and a few friends

writing this because Sonia, in New York, has ask me
to act as window to enable her to look on, to look in

writing this because I love Walcott and poetry
and poets at home and poets abroad
all around the round world


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:03 p.m. 12.11.09