Kapka Kassabova, Poet

Can you tell I'm between projects ... and I have all this energy.

So I was over reading Harvey's blog and discovered a favourite poet's poem posted there.

Kapka Kassabova has been a favourite ever since she introduced me to the concept that New Zealand wasn't some continent down at the bottom the world, with her book 'All Roads Lead to the Sea'.

I thought on it some and realised this immigrant chick was entirely right and most roads in New Zealand, sooner or later, lead to the sea. My island, the South Island is about 600kms long and 200kms across approximately.

My island.

So yes ...

Anyway, Harvey had posted a poem which led me back to Kapka's website ... she's a writer now, pursuing her passion and talks of being 'professionally poor', I recognise the job description.

Here is one of her poems:

Refugees

Look: the poverty of rain
Let's gather it in thimbles of patience
Then pour it out in the mud

Meanwhile
We'll count all the worlds
to which we'll never go

We must remember memory is hope.
But quietly, for words can cut out gaps in us
so wide, we'd find
too many bodies lying there

Forget, we must forget
the memories they open up and blossom
like switch-blades in the guts

Look: this is the world we have
Too poor to hide in
Too dark to cross, too single to forget
2003.