Inspire / Respire
Inpire, Respire. Photo by Rami Schandall ©2021.
Riffing freely and loosely with elements of autumn, and language, medicine and philosophy and etymology, in this poem-thought below. Feeling also, the passing this week of two more poet heroes, both west coast giants. Lee Maracle and Phyllis Webb both joined the ancestors on November 11, 2021. I had the good fortune of meeting both women, once each, and so hoped to meet them again. The world is so much richer for their lives, their minds, their words.
Phyllis Webb was a broadcaster and co-founder of the CBC programme Ideas in her early career, and a painter later in life, but it is her poetry I know best. Peacock Blue is a gorgeous, retrospective collection of her work, published in 2014 by Talon Books.
Lee Maracle was a Stó:lo poet and activist, a forerunner and mentor to the wave of brilliant indigenous writers being celebrated today. A clear and free thinker, I found her perspective enlightening every time I encountered her in contemporary discourse. She was strongly informed by culture, and fully engaged — she was not afraid to challenge ideas from any source, graciously, thoughtfully, firmly. Here is a video of Lee Maracle in her brilliance, just a few months ago. I miss her so much already. My Conversations with Canadians is a must read, and I look forward to reading Celia’s Song next.
Inspire, respire
take life from the root of breath
the breeze that blows divine
inspire, respire
breath of source
and to rest
this autumn, this now
lung metal
to limn upon skin
so soon, passing
new moon always lowest
smell the spice of autumn weeping
throat clearing and blue
a fall toward ancestors
I cannot claim beyond loving
we stand raining together
watered and ready for earth’s
rivering, route to the mouth
where salt and sweet meet
at an exit, or entrance
bow this head lower
toward heart and lower heart
toward the ground bowing
when I remember
Inspire, respire.
in·spire
/inˈspī(ə)r/
to fill (someone) with the urge or ability to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.
to inhale.
re·spire
/rəˈspī(ə)r/
to breathe, to carry out respiration.
and, in literary use:
to recover hope, courage, or strength after a time of difficulty.
Both words derive from the latin spirare ‘breathe’ — the word was originally used of a divine or supernatural being, in the sense to ‘impart a truth or idea to someone.’
