This week I used 2 of my own poems in writing classrooms. I wrote both of them when I thought of the first time I went to Mepkin Abbey in 2004. Halloween was on a Sunday, and on both Saturday night and Sunday, we could see and hear trick-or-treaters across the river. I also remember walking down the long drive with a friend at sunset; in the distance, we saw figures in white gowns. We knew they were monks, but they had a ghostly presence.
I thought they might give us a blessing or a nugget of wisdom. Instead one of them said, "Don't forget to vote on Tuesday and make sure you vote for the right one."
I wrote a poem with a lot of the elements from that first visit:
Autumn at the Abbey
I drove seven hundred miles from the tip
of Spanish speaking Florida to the Gullah drenched
lowcountry marsh.
I arose in the wee small hours of the morning
to drive up the spine of the state
with truckers and other insomniacs.
I saw the flaming
orange fields, the flickers
of light across the river.
I have eaten eggs from the chickens
raised by monks and been sprinkled
with holy water before bed.
I saw the baby Jesus
created from a
cornucopia of materials.
I harmonized with monks
and chanted my way through a quarter
of the Psalms.
I watched the monks at sunset
walking under Spanish moss draped
trees, ghosts from a different century.
I drove seven hundred miles from the tip
of Spanish speaking Florida to the Gullah drenched
lowcountry marsh.
I arose in the wee small hours of the morning
to drive up the spine of the state
with truckers and other insomniacs.
I saw the flaming
orange fields, the flickers
of light across the river.
I have eaten eggs from the chickens
raised by monks and been sprinkled
with holy water before bed.
I saw the baby Jesus
created from a
cornucopia of materials.
I harmonized with monks
and chanted my way through a quarter
of the Psalms.
I watched the monks at sunset
walking under Spanish moss draped
trees, ghosts from a different century.
---
Later I rewrote the poem and tried to make the Halloween elements more explicit:
All Hallows at the Abbey
I awoke very early to sing
lauds with the monks,
and then I set out for the river.
In the pre-sunrise mists that rose off the currents,
I would not have been surprised
to see a runaway slave.
In the afternoon, the fields flamed
orange and light winked
across the water.
I returned to the chapel to harmonize
with monks and chant
the Psalms that still speak to us.
As the sun sank, across the river, candles flickered
in carved pumpkins and costumed children participated
in a different ancient ritual.
As we walked to compline service, monks in white robes
walked under trees dripping with Spanish moss,
I awoke very early to sing
lauds with the monks,
and then I set out for the river.
In the pre-sunrise mists that rose off the currents,
I would not have been surprised
to see a runaway slave.
In the afternoon, the fields flamed
orange and light winked
across the water.
I returned to the chapel to harmonize
with monks and chant
the Psalms that still speak to us.
As the sun sank, across the river, candles flickered
in carved pumpkins and costumed children participated
in a different ancient ritual.
As we walked to compline service, monks in white robes
walked under trees dripping with Spanish moss,
ghosts from a different century.
---
I like them both, and what I like most is how the poem process captures the memory of that long ago visit for me.
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