War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

mother's day

May 13, 2012  ·  No comments

today is mother’s day. the day upon which we who have had the beautiful gift of bearing a child and delivering a child and raising a child, get to sit back, maybe have breakfast in bed, perhaps a bouquet of flowers, or a beautiful gift.

in my case today, I was given by my daughter an Emma Bridgewater mug with black labradors all over it. I have a thing for black labs, having had my soul-dog a lab-shepherd cross for 14 1/2 years. I still miss that neurotic, brilliant and faithful dog. and interestingly, the Emma Bridgewater mug was part of a fundraiser for the Help for Heroes Charity

but mother’s day for some can bring much pain. today is the 2nd anniversary of Cpl. Kevin “Mickey” McKay’s death by roadside bomb in Afghanistan. and it doesn’t get easier. our family knows this from personal experience. our family misses our brother and sister-in-law’s girl every day but holiday’s magnify loss. and somehow we still can’t believe she’s gone. we still expect her to show up…

I knew Mickey. he was lovely and gentle and funny and kind and wanted to help. he helped me get settled in Wainwrightistan and let me ask way too many questions when I did sentry with him or just hung with him down in the supply tent which he voluntarily manned after most of the crew was hit by a duff “rocket attack” and 9 lined out to fake KAF. he was there to help. always.

I “mom’ed” Mickey a bit too as I think I did some of the other boys I met on Ex. I fed him homemade cookies. joked. brought a little bit of home to him I hope on his road to war.

and I was there with his family and comrades, his Sgt., his best friend, the CDS, the GG, the Afghan ambassador, the brass, the chalk that accompanied him when he came home to his country at Trenton, my arm entwined with that of his OC Major Niven’s wife Bonny. I wrote this poem, ‘Who Heard (repat)’ for him.

and today I send my thoughts out to his family, but especially to his mother Beth at this mother’s day (and to Jane and to Anne and to Elaine and all the other mothers I met who lost their boys in A’stan)…

Who Heard (repat)

who heard
last summer’s grass,
the oily bird,
the grackle beaked,
the long slow pass
the chalk lines tanned
fresh plane’d from Afghanistan,
the medalled wait, the brass,
the mother weep, the father
breathe, the brother still,
the tick, click, tick
jet turbines powered down,
the crown and anchor wheel,
tick, click, tick, click, the awful sound
shuffled feet, the tarmac ground,
honour guard bring young Mickey home;

who heard the red and white,
maple leaf half-mast
the maple leaf cinched tight
around his casket,
the Flowers of the Forest piped,
“to your fallen comrade present arms”
the jet trail scratch our perfect sky,
the motorcycles’ thrum and beat
outside another wire, another gate;

who heard last summer’s grass
the glassy bird, the grackle’s beak,
who heard the wind
the opened May, the brilliant day
we clutched each other’s arms and waists
to bring young Mickey home
to stay, for good, the opened May
who heard it sing
that terrible day?

— smsteele

---

War (and Peace) comes to the Valentine

May 7, 2012  ·  No comments

Today I’m opening my studio and giving a short intro to my work on Afghanistan: Requiem for a Generation

a fellow colony artist is going to play through some of Jeffrey Ryan’s gorgeous Requiem score (I may attempt to sing the Mezzo part… eeek!) and I’ll also show some pics from my time with the Patricias and the Royal 22e Régiment. I may read a few of my new After th Fall concussion poems too… if I can remember where to find them (er).

this project has been commissioned by the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra in partnership with One Yellow Rabbit (High Performance Rodeo) and the Banff Centre (my most gracious and beloved host!)

anyone in town
Valentine Studio
Leightons
5 pm

(civilized wine and crunchies to be served!)

— smsteele

---

Luciane Cardassi

May 4, 2012  ·  1 comment

here is the website to the amazing pianist who came to my studio yesterday to play through some of the Requiem score for me. I could tell she’s one hell of a musician by the way she touched the piano keys and sight-read the score.

she’s playing in Toronto on May 25 at Gallery 345, 8 pm.

here’s her website

— smsteele

---

2nd movement of Afghanistan: Requiem for a Generation

May 3, 2012  ·  No comments

a kind pianist came by to my studio this morning and played through the score for me so I could hear the choral parts of the Requiem as well as the orchestral. gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Jeffrey Ryan has heard what I was hoping he would.

thanks Jeff. a major work.

— smsteele

---

2nd movement of Afghanistan: Requiem for a Generation

May 2, 2012  ·  No comments

Jeff Ryan just sent me the 2nd movement of the Requiem. to say it’s wonderful, powerful, kuhl, is an understatement.

it’s been awhile since I read the words and so seeing them set to music feels like I didn’t even write them (always a good sign I believe, for a writer to think someone else wrote the work!).

I’ve been able to plunk out the vocal lines with my right hand, but the left hand is toast so I have an APB out for a pianist to drop by to my studio for a sight reading.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

— smsteele

---

down for th count

Apr 27, 2012  ·  1 comment

funny how this work goes. i’m back to canada to put finishing touches on requiem, push th phd forward, see friends, family, spend a few weeks in my beloved studio in th woods… all good

until th fall… this bc girl doesn’t know about treacherous round gravel on post snow melt roads… running to fetch something from my studio I slipped, did a faceplant full speed… 1st of my life… concussion, bruised sternum (the curb hit me between my breasts suoer ouch), cut face, bruises, broken hand… f’ing eh

CTB as they say… full “brain rest”… no computer, tv, reading, writing… lie in dark quiet room… fortunately my studio in th woods is designed like a small wooden cathedral – dark yet light, high ceilings, big windows… yesterday 2 whitetail nested outside all day… sweet sentry (they even seem to have chew under their upper lips!)

im finding 1 handed life challenging… using my feet a lot but cant figure doing up th female lingerie thing quite yet)

seriously tho, im thinking of how this gives me a TINY insight into th wounded & how tough it must be t learn how to do th everyday stuff never mind th unusual… and I know my hand will get better in a month or so & my sternum in 3-4 months, but these guys have to learn to walk, write, live etc forever without a hand, arm, leg, eyes…

today, after rest my brain is fine, I see th surgeon on monday : (
morale so so… i find it ironic that I roared over countryside hanging out of gunners turrets, flew over Astan, experienced rocket attack, massive broken heart, only to be hurt at an artists colony … there should be a meretricious medal for artists

just a thought (written slowly with 1 hand)

— smsteele

---

notes from PhD land

Apr 20, 2012  ·  No comments

working on the idea of witness and am reading Edward Thomas the WWI poet who never wrote trench lyric. truth is he was only in theatre a few weeks before he was killed in 1917 at Arras, so we’ll never know what would have come from his experiences. he might have taken 2 decades, as did David Jones before he wrote In Parenthesis.

I’ve read Thomas’s 1917 diary and the trenches are present and accounted for, or rather, the muddy road being pushed through No Man’s Land by the engineers – oh the engineers, those boys (and women, because I’ve met the most AWESOME women engineers out in the field and A’stan) can do ANYTHING ANYWHERE – and the mud puddles red with blood. but the thing is, as anyone who has ever been on the road to war, or into theatre knows, the Front, and kinetic, as I believe they call combat, is relatively rare, and yet it occupies 99.9% of our common understanding of, the predominant trope of war. so too the shell-shocked, or PTSD soldier. again, the latter are the minority. MOST soldiers cope. certainly they suffer, but those who are connected and seek help, DO cope… and one doesn’t have to be in kinetic at the front to suffer. one can suffer 2nd hand, or as a clerk I know has, having had to handle TOO many 9 liners, PTSD swirled in like snowflakes in a snowglobe, or dust in an Afghan sandstorm.

I wrote to one of the boys recently and said, “your war is over, mine has just begun,” because up until now I’ve just taken notes, written something or another (e.g. Afghanistan: Requiem for a Generation). and now it’s time to really sit down and think and write.

thank you boys (and women). I’m thinking. reading. writing.

— smsteele

---

lazarus (42)

Apr 11, 2012  ·  No comments

Lazarus I would lie if I said it had nothing to do
with hands washed and washed clean
of fingertips that know trigger,bolt,
telescopic sight, focus dial, scope.
I would lie, lie o Lazarus, Lazareye if I said
it had nothing to do immaculate
hands, sweet lemony or cherry
your fingertips and how they know
the desert, the valley, the wadis, cool shade
of the mulberry, my body, you know, o you know
like trigger, bolt, focus dial, scope.

— smsteele