Thank you, Ms. Vanderbilt

Dear Ms. Vanderbilt,

When an interview request via Lewis Frumkes was unsuccessful in April 2008, I was disappointed at the missed opportunity—not just for the members of a local writers’ newsletter who anticipated reading the published interview, but also (more selfishly) for the chance to pass along the enclosed poem.

At the time of the interview request, I wanted to share this poem with you in writerly kinship as I had been reading “It Seemed Important at the Time” and found similarity in the way we both described longing after loss. Today, I wanted to share this poem with you in gratitude for the generosity to emerging Canadian writers.

As a finalist in a writing competition, I know firsthand the awesome sense of accomplishment it is to be considered for an award named for another writer. And with a university award named for a close family member, I also understand the meaning of this type of tribute. The naming of an award to honour a loved one’s memory is a testament to how the person lived his life.

In both, you offer an inspiring gift.

Thank you for an enjoyable and truly unique evening.

Best,

Valerie

Distant Voices

In her dreams, a mother calls to her child.
A distant voice calls back.

In the light of day,
she dreams a tree,
places palms against
trunk, presses her cheek
to its rough, rests her chin
in collar bone. A late study of pose
and position. In theatrical slope,
there is a suggestion of loose
workings. Her body pulls
away, in search of
the sky’s other half.

In the light of day, she believes
if she encircles the tree long enough,
she’ll will her arms into branches, branches
that will lift her, in search of the sun.

She’ll will her arms into branches,
branches that crawl over one another
reaching for light. She will dream herself

tree meeting sky.

_______________________________

A thank you note for an amazing evening that didn’t happen then did.

This poem first appeared on Gloom Cupboard #119 April 20, 2010.