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| Men of the Deep by Oryst Sawchuk |
BERNARD ANDREWS
THE LANDING AND PLEDGE
I landed as an immigrant, in 1945,
At a place called Halifax, just pleased to be alive.
I entered in the Custom’s Hall, with joy and great relief
To leave my troubles all behind, lay down, at last, my grief.
The official asked a question, for me to answer more.
"What part of Canada will you tread, following those who went before?"
"I'm off to Sudbury, way up north," my open mouth did cry.
He looked me up and down, and asked, "Man oh man, just why?”
"In Sudbury live good people, with hearts as big as lakes,
Good sense, good manners – good God, my friend, that is all it takes."
He wished me well, and with a nod he sent me on my way,
To catch a train to Sudbury on this, the self-same day.
As dark it was when sleep set in, on my journey to the north,
My dreams of fame and fortune were all that I was worth.
My thoughts of what I'd done were pushed into the back.
I vowed to work, I vowed to live, and never once to crack!
THE LADS ARE HAME:
TRIBUTE TO OUR TROOPS RETURNING FROM AFGHANISTAN, IN SCOTTISH DIALECT
Our troops are hame, the lads are hame.
Well, lift your glasses high.
We'll tak a dram and maybe twa,
And one for Auld Lang Syne.
And one tae toast the lassies.
Perhaps we'll steal a kiss.
'Twould be such a fitting welcome hame
On sic a nicht as this!
O Lord above, we thank Thee.
Ye'll hear our voices ring.
We laud Ye and we praise Thee
Wi' every note we sing.
We wonder at Yer power,
We marvel at Yer might.
But Ye dinna need to worry noo.
They're safe wi' us the night.
* * * *
LAURA WRIGHT
Laura Wright says of herself, "I am a middle-aged mother of three teens, and have a wonderful husband. I dedicate all my success to Jesus Christ, because, without Him, I am nothing."
THERE'S A LADY IN THE OTHER BED
There's a lady in the other bed.
She likes her sour candies, orange and red.
She loves to colour in her book.
To pass the time is all it took.
There's a lady in the other bed,
I asked her her name, and Trish she said.
She loves her pudding of vanilla or rice.
Ask if she wants some. You don't have to ask twice.
We like to chat, now and then.
Now, I can call her my friend.
* * * *
EMILIE THIBAULT
Emilie Thibault is a Grade Twelve student at Collège Notre-Dame. She enjoys writing in both French and English. In writing this poem, she was inspired by Phil Collins’ song, "Another Day in Paradise," and by her experience when volunteering at the Sudbury Soup Kitchen.
HOMELESS
A stranger passed me by
And took a second glance. Why?
Could it be that he didn’t realize
This world is full of lies?
To see a man live like a stray dog,
On the streets begging behind morning fog
For a hand-out of any kind;
Questions, answers, dignity declined.
My cards have been misplayed.
I was the one betrayed.
Why was I let to roam
And become a person without a home?
I’m tired of Sunday’s soup special.
Is this pathetic phenomenon global?
So worthless in society’s eyes,
A dismal fact that no-one denies.
I am drowning in a river of shame
With no one else to blame
But myself, I’m afraid,
Surrendering to all the mistakes I’ve made.
* * * *
HEATHER GUSE
PLEASE, FILL MY CUP, OLD MAN
Each day, I pass you,
Sitting in the sun
Watching the people
Bustle by with not a glance
Your way.
Everyone is intent
On getting somewhere else –
And you wait
For someone
To notice you.
My heart is touched
By the hopefulness in your eyes,
The lines that time and care
Have etched upon your face,
Like the long story of a fruitful life, now read
Only in your memory and by the compassion
Of others who have time and eyes to see and read
A life’s journey that began surrounded
By loving family and fearless friends
Now long gone, and living only in pictures.
Your restless hands, as they tremble slightly
And rest like ancient birds
Upon your fragile knees, ache
On damp days and feel tolerable only in the sun.
So I smile,
Hoping to let you know
That I understand, or I think I do, but, if not,
For sure my heart does feel your secret sorrow.
Your eyes light up and you beckon me closer
With a soft voice that wishes me
To be glad of the lovely day.
And I stop to smile back
And to speak inconsequentially
Of mundane things,
Because I don’t know the words to say,
Or how to comfort you
In your solitude.
You are glad
Of the time that we have shared. So am I,
And, as I walk away,
I glance back,
As your eyes take on a far-away look;
As you remember
When you, too,
Could hurry away
And bury yourself
In your own life – not realizing your loss
Because you had not taken the time
To really see others
As they waited on the edge of your life
For you to look and find them waiting there.
So remorse and sadness
Overwhelm my selfish soul,
And I hurry home to prepare
A meal to nourish your tired
And broken body.
I want to show you
That I care very deeply,
But I can’t tell you
How my heart aches
That I can’t nourish
Your lonely spirit as well.
When you return my dish,
You fill it with golden oranges.
Your pride could not allow you
To return it empty.
And my eyes fill with tears
Because you did not feel free
To return it empty.
I wanted you to, you know.
I did not want you to rush to try
To repay a simple kindness that was
My responsibility to give.
So thank you, dear old man.
May I never, again,
Return to others
Empty vessels.
Let me, like you,
Fill them instead
With appreciation, generosity and humility.
May I never pass others by
As their lonely eyes track
Each passing shadow,
And their silent ears
Listen for approaching footsteps,
Hoping to be noticed.
* * * *
BLAIR OLIVER
Blair Oliver is currently in her fourth year at Laurentian University as a History major, and is getting ready for Teacher's College. She has a passion for art, culture, reading, writing and music.
JUMP
You make my heart wanna jump.
Got this look on my face
doesn't want to go away
even when the sunshine fades
or if the clouds decide to give way.
Jump. Right into the puddle.
Just tip up my umbrella and
there's my smile.
'Cause you do this to me.
Everything seems so much sweeter
and nothing seems to bother me
when you're around.
Jump up. Jump down.
Just jump all around.
Time to kick off my rubber boots.
Let loose, be free.
Come splash with me.
Let's go back to being young
When nothing seemed to matter.
And when things are unclear
don’t forget to jump back to me.
I’ll be here, grey or blue
with boots in hand
& extra umbrella
just for you.
