Leannah Riah Fidler ≈ Three Poems





        (for Carman)


I see your face in everyone today

        even though I know it is not you


I see you in the woman holding her child’s hand

                her face framed in a window


I see you in the woman I pass on the street-

                I hear your laugh

                        I saw your smile


even now I can feel the warmth of your touch,

        your kiss on my cheek


even though the last time I saw you

        -your body in so much pain-

I knew would be the last time



        Winter’s End


the rain calmed me

        as I watched from the window-

        fat droplets

                congealing on branches


water ran over everything

        the green, the orange-pink blush

                of sap rising in the trees

        as winter is washed away



        stepping out refreshed

                in the damp evening light

        I expect to smell the salt,

                the ocean air rolling in

                        from Vancouver Island


here the cool in the air

        is April confused with October

                as my hands chap, fingers numb


breath rising in steam

        the crisp of Fall in a Spring evening

                and that Autumn feeling of completion


my senses still uncertain though

        for, even the grey of the clouds

                is thick and heavy

                ready to be stacked with snow

                        against coastal mountains

                instead of easily

                        skimming the Gatineau Hills

                                already brimming with new growth



West Coast Morning  (or, Graveyard of the Pacific)


the ocean wind was calm this morning

        as a veil of fog burned off of the trees

                between Dare Point

                        and the Cheewat River


but now, at dusk, I can hear pleas for safety

        from twisted metal

echoing with waves crashing over

        and over

                the forever abandoned


they say there are ships that haunt the coast

        and the smell of canvas and damp wool

                from the survivors

                        still lingers in the air like a whisper


their ghosts are rattling in the bony forest

        among gnarled fingers of trees and

                they are keeping the wood wet

                for, however angry I become,

                        I cannot light a fire


I am haunted here

                by those left behind,

        and the footprints of their followers has become

                        the trail for my serenity



2 thoughts on “Leannah Riah Fidler ≈ Three Poems

  1. daen says:

    enjoyed very much, each with a deep and haunting presence, shared humanity, and the poetic flows in each, perfectly rich in texture and sound nodes, echoed into this horizon, this day

  2. bonnie says:

    Tears again this morning. Almost a month now. Thank you for being there, when I couldn’t.

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