Day 655: Poetry in motion

Full disclosure: In my excitement to try and take a picture of the poem, I barely missed tripping over a lady in a full-leg cast... her glare still haunts me.

So it was a blowy, snowy morning … the type of day where those pretty little snowflakes ice up and sting your skin like lasers as you walk into the wind.

A snowy day in T.O.

My bus was cancelled. At least I’m guessing it was, because before another one came along, the crowd of people waiting was double its usual size.

I did consider elbowing my way to the front of the line so I could get a seat, but my conscience — and a burly lady in a parka — caused me to rethink that.

I let pretty much the whole group get on before me and grumbled to myself about having to stand the whole way — especially since I’d forgotten my book at home.

Then, I looked up and saw a vision. Well, not an actual vision. But the words of a poem, so lovely, so profound — my eyes spontaneously welled up with tears.

The poem was “Water and Marble” by Canada’s P.K. Page. I’d forgotten about the transit program that posts poetry in Toronto’s subways and on buses and streetcars.

And to think, if I had elbowed my way on and grabbed a seat, I might never have noticed it.

Water & Marble – P.K. Page

And I shall tell him that the thought of him turns me to water
and when his name is spoken pale still sky trembles and breaks and moves like blowing water
that winter thaws its frozen drifts in water
all matter blurs, unsteady, seen through water
and I, in him, dislimn, water in water?

As true: the thought of him has made me marble
and when his name is spoken blowing sky settles and freezes in a dome of marble
and winter seals its floury drifts in marble
all matter double-locks as dense as marble
and I, in others’ eyes, am cut from marble.

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