Wednesday, October 19, 2005
My place redux
The recent discussion on NZ metaphors reminded me of this poem. If I wrote it now, I think I would make some changes.
(and having finished writing the post, I wish I'd never even thought of changing it! There's something resonant about it; although technically quite weak and half-formed, so was the author. So these changes remain incomplete, as is the author.)
I still like the damage inherent in many of the images. I was especially reminded of it watching coverage of the Demis Paul case on TV yesterday. NZ is "not a very happy paradise." (link.)
I think I'd like to leave things a little more puzzling, a little more open-ended. I'd also like to clean up some metaphors a bit. I like muliplicity of meanings, but thus just seems muddled. For example, there are many images of water:
Clear stream cascadesA writer becomes a reader when interpreting his own work, and for me these represent the work of God's spirit, especially to bring change (or redemption?) to the people and land.
Through a thirsty wasteland
Splash in ankle deep joy
life, flowing from the hills
Streams meld seamlessly
River in single purpose
Drink for the thirsty
Watered by life
Broiling interface breaks
Flooding into the sea
baptised by water
I no longer like the line:
Eager anticipation fills her painNow, I think I prefer:
Waiting, waiting, waiting for the saving promise
Eager anticipation fills her painThe rythym would improve, and the waiting would be emphasised. It's a more open-ended and creative space, yet allows readers to freely engage in my Christian hope. It's also easier to subvert, without resorting to an ironic tone (which I have used at times).
Waiting, waiting, waiting
I still love the strength that comes from "Aotearoa, Aotearoa", but I wonder if I prefer the poem with or without the final, "Aotearoa, Hallelujah". I must have been in an optimistic mood when I wrote this the first time. Reading it again, I can't lose myself in the same optimism; I subvert, I rethink, I reimagine.
Which isn't to say I'm hope-less or that I no longer have trust in the story. I guess I'm finding new words to express new hopes. But the metaphors cannot remain the same. When will spirit and mind catch up?
Redemption, hope and play...Father, let us become knowledgeable without cynicism, let us grow wise and not weary; engaging your limitless knowing, engaged by your love.
