Walkng With Poetry Part 3

She turned on her side, looking away from me. I lay on my back thinking about the stars high above our tent.
"Are you awake, Alisha?"
I heard her mumbled yes.
"Then listen to my words and dream about them. We can then talk about them tomorrow."
"Uhu. Go on."
"Yeea OK. Here goes."

"Why did all the old poets
Rumi, Mirabai and Gibran
Sit on sand all alone?
Alone with just their pipes?

Why did they not consult
All the village elders
The pandits down the road
Or poetry for Dummies?

No, they wrote because they loved
They loved what they had embraced
And what they still longed to touch
A stone, a table or a woman's cheek.

Only love can make you write
Not flashing qasars and space-time theories
No Latin words with multi syllables
No only themes about which you can dream."

I faintly heard her sleepy voice. "Well you can't write about me."
"Oh. Why not?"
"Because you can't embrace me."
I burst out laughing.
"Oh yeea, I know about your knife. What really matters is that I gave you something to ponder over."
Her voice was very soft by now. "Good night, teacher."

After a while, I drew myself up on my elbows and bent over to look at her. I thought that she looked kind of cute lying there so vulnerable yet somehow trusting.
Then I lay down and was soon asleep.

When she eventually poked her head out of the tent the next morning I was already making coffee.
Her look was one of mixed anger and panic. I ignored emotional condition and gave her a quite cheerful greeting instead.
"Oh I see that you're not a morning person,"
She grabbed my shirt rather forcefully. "Did you touch me last night? Did you?"
"Wow. Why do you ask? Don't you know?"
"Did you or didn't you? I want to know what happened."
"Nothing happened, my dear. But man, you look terrible. Here, better have some coffee."

"Where can I wash?"
"First we'll have to find a river. If you're talking about water right here then you'll have to take some from the water bag there. Take some and wash your face."
"So, what's for breakfast. I'm really starving."
"Oh yes. Here it is. Energy bar au natura once again. Have one. Enjoy it because there's no more. Yup, that's all there is."
"You mean that you didn't bring more? Are you saying there's no food?"
"Yup."
"So what kind of cross country hiker are you?"
"A totally unprepared one, I guess. I didn't plan this adventure. It just happened. Go over there, Alisha, and eat your much maligned bar on that log and I'll bring you some more coffee. Ok?"

I brought her coffee and then sat down next to her.
"Listen to me carefully Alisha. Drink in my words with your coffee." I smiled as I said that. "To be a poet you must believe in yourself. But totally. No half believing, you hear.
You must not believe in me...nor any other teacher. Only in yourself."
"Ok ok but what are going to eat later on? Tell me that Mr.Teacher."

"Just keep quiet for a moment. Close your eyes and concentrate. Try to believe, totally, that you will eat. Visualise a plate of hot food right there in front of you.
Learn how to visualise. See that beautiful scene in your mind and even experience a wonderful moment. Feel that you can smell, taste and touch it. If you can do this then you can be sure that you'll write beautiful poetry."
"I'm sorry but that sounds totally weird to me."
"Wait. Do you remember Peter in the Bible? Do you remember that magnificent moment when he walked on water? Then when the first doubts entered his mind he immediately sank down to his ears in the sea. Remember?"

She nodded.

"Well remember that he did that because for a moment he had no doubts." She looked at me intently but did not say a word.
I folded up the tent into a very small bundle and then packed everything away in my pack. Then I looked at her and smiled.
"Come let's find a river or a pool where we can wash ourselves. Yeea, let's go and swim somewhere."
I began to walk away between the trees knowing that she was close behind me.

When we first heard the gushing sounds of the river we both gave a shout of joy and began running excitedly towards it.
It was a beautiful sight. We saw a large pool, a small waterfall and some picturesque rocks. It was a stunning sight for two tired and unwashed hikers.
I looked around and saw a suitable bank on the other side of the river. I saw that the river was knee deep and there were many treacherous looking rocks in the water.
Alisha was watching me anxiously.
"What now, teacher?"
"Well we have to go to the other side somehow."
"What? That's dangerous. One can fall and break a leg."
I shrugged my shoulders and then held out my hands towards her.
"Come give me your shoes and that pretty little waistcoat.

When she saw the look in my eyes she didn't protest. I shoved them deep into her pack. Then I put both her pack and mine on my back. Then with one sudden swoop I picked her up and stepped into the river.
It was when we were near the other side that I saw it. It was thrilling beyond words. It was a King Trout. Few people on earth had ever seen sight like that. I immediately saw that we had, quite by accident, trapped it. I was standing in the opening of a ring of rocks. I knew then that I could catch it.

With hindsight, my next action was unforgivable but what does one do in a crisis? Well I did was drop her in the water and make a grab for the catch of a life time. As I felt my fingers closed around his heaving body, I felt his powerful struggling.
At last, it was firmly in my grip and I turned triumphantly towards Alisha.
By then her face had changed from total shock to furious indignation.
I looked at her, back to the fish and back to her again.
Then I knelt down in the water next to her and extended the trout towards her. I did it as a nurse would hold out a new born baby to its mother.

"Hold it Alisha. Don't be afraid. It's your wriggling fish. Hold it and you'll become a poet. I told you that and now you have your chance. Isn't life wonderful?"
It must have been the look on my face or the sheer joy of having experienced a jungle event that made her burst out laughing. She sounded like the carillon bells of a cathedral in a medieval city. She reached out and tentatively touched the scaly skin.
I nodded my head in eager encouragement.
"Come on. Put your hands around it. Hold it. Hold it tight. Don't be afraid. I'll help you. Hold it and become a poet." As she did so, a change came over her. For a moment she became a young girl that had just discovered that she could fall in love.

Later, with a feeling of deep regret I killed and gutted the fish. Then I packed clay around it and dug a shallow hole. I put the clay form in the hollow. I packed wood in an open space next to it and made a fire. Once I had scraped the glowing coals over the clay I winked at Alisha.
"Now we're going to swim. This baking will take at least a half hour".
I had trunks in my pack and she had spare underwear.
After the refreshing swim, fresh, clean and starving we broke open the clay shape. The aroma reminded us how famished we were. We could not wait to take our first bites. The meal was soon over but it was one never to be forgotten.

While we tasted each morsel with pure delight I began to speak to her.
"There's another thing that a poet must know. It's the devastating power of the not understood word."
In between chewing and swallowing she managed to say a few words.
"What's that? What's a not understood word? What's the big deal? Doesn't it happen all the time?"