This page is where I'm going to (eventually) put a selection of poems written while travelling.
Pablo’s Instructions for Travel
The man is green here as in your home,
not like Buenos Aires where he walks in white.
And when it is your turn it is also for the traffic
but even though they are coming, don’t stop.
Walk as if you mean it. Don’t take for granted
the direction. Here in Santiago it changes in the day.
Maybe you can take the subway, buy a boleto,
it will stay in the machine, not like London.
Look here, you see the Andes are missing.
So much smog. Our yellow buses,
exhausting line after line. Much crowded,
watch your bags. And wear your dark glasses
to hide your blue eyes.
All our bus system changes tomorrow, so much
confusion. Yes, you could travel on one then.
Like you, no-one will know what they are doing.
Shopping in Lirangwe
She suggests I start with something soft,
easy to mould to the shape of my skull,
then carry more weight, progress
to a solid shape. A teapot, not hot.
I must lose the habit of darting my neck
like a bird. Walk with a straight back, think
like a giraffe, although there are none in England -
perhaps I know what she is meaning?
Western women should be proud, not slouch.
I must make my head a thing of beauty.
She tells me, when I’m back home,
I must practise often.
I remember this in Tesco, piling panini,
mixed leaf salad and on-the-vine tomatoes
into a plastic bag. The 500 grams of Basmati
mould to the curve of my hand.
In the dimly-lit car park
I allow my head to grow beautiful again.
(First published as a commended poem in Mslexia's poetry competition 2005.)
For Those Who Make the Arpilleras
In the unseasonal rain
I dream of you women,
your invisible hands
steering this long thin ship*,
the glide of your scissors and needles,
this gentle re-telling of history
with no movement of your faces,
the way you say
we at the soup kitchen could not speak out.
We turned skirts and blouses into pictures
that told of our frustrations.
These became our voices.
In this unseasonal rain
I dream of you, Margarita,
who sewed to put your children
through higher education
and Adriana, making lunch for your sick neighbour.
I hear your strong voices
drumming on Santiago’s rooftops,
because of this
we have learned a different reality.
*Long thin ship - Pablo Neruda’s description of Chile
This poem is based on interviews with women in Santiago who used arpilleras –
bright appliquéd pictures portraying life in Chile under Pinochet – to get news to the outside world.
They sell their work through Fundacion Solidaridad, a fair trade organisation based in the city.
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