Walking With Poetry Part 4 (Final)

"Let me try and explain. When you read prose or poetry and you come across a word that you don't understand then that's a not understood."
"Give me an example."
"Hmmm...let's take some crazy word...like sancto-filomancy."
"What? What kind of word is that? Well, you got me there. I'll have to look that up."

"Aha. There's the rub. Must you have a dictionary permanently at your side when you read poetry? What if you're reading in a park without a reference book in sight."
"Oh I'd just skip that word and go on."
"And that's just where the trouble would begin. Only your eyes would be moving on but your mind won't. Your brain, your intellect, would be in a feverish turmoil. All your neuro-transmitters and your synapses would be milling around trying to identify that word. They want it to be understood and filed somewhere. That's how the brain works."
"So how do these neuro things work?"
"Well, first they'll look at "sancto". They'll try and connect it with words like sanctity or sanctimonious. Then in a panic the brain will try and identify words like filomancy. It'll say what the hell is this? Is it something to do with sons and daughters?"
"So the mind goes into a stare of frantic activity?"
"Yes, you've got that right. Soon your eyes will be on Page 2 and 3 but your mind would still be obsessed with that one word on Page 1."
"So what?"
"Don't you see. You're reading on and on but you're not understanding anything because your mind's somewhere else. You're going to get bored."

"OK. Is this what you're saying. Use simple words. Fairly well known words. Perhaps a challenging word here and there but not every two lines or so. Am I right? You must do KISS. Keep it simple stupid."
I burst out laughing. She's quite funny sometimes, I thought.
"Remember what that great poet Wordsworth said. Be simple and sincere."
"Gotcha Dinel. You've made your point."
As we walked between the trees, I saw a Wild Apple tree. I immediately took her hand and gently pulled her towards it. Then I looked at her.
"Do you want to write great poetry? Yes?"
"Yes, of course. That's the general idea."
Then I took her two hands and rubbed them over the rough bark.
"Feel that Alisha. That's real. That's not an abstract fantasy. That's not a pseudo-intellectual vagueness. It's real. It's life. It's God's gift."

She moved her hands over the surface and then quite playfully almost hugged the tree. As she did so I bent forward and whispered into her ear.
"Now Alisha. Now you can go and write a poem. A real singing soaring poem. Remember this when you're in that college, will you?"
She nodded her head as she kept looking at the tree.
I turned away and looked at the path ahead. I could see the road in the distance about three km away.
"We're nearly there Alisha. Let's rest for a while. Go and sit here on that rock.. There's something that I want to discuss with you before we go on."
She looked at him with a curiosity in her eyes,
"What?"
"Do you remember this morning when you were so hungry? Can you recall what did I say to you?"
She looked up at the sky and stretched her arms heavenwards. Then she sighed.
"You said that I must close my eyes and that I must believe. I had to clearly visualise what ever it was that I wanted."
"So did you?"
"Oh yes. I did. I visualised food and food.and more food."
I found myself laughing. I knew that she was playing the fool but I also knew that she was beginning to understand something.
"And did you get your wish?"
She cocked her head and looked sideways at me.
"How come that you know all this?"
I looked down at my fingers and then at her.
"Do you remember when you were eight? How bright and spiritual you were? When you could so easily paint and dance and even tell your father all about the stars.
When you knew that the story of Ali Baba was true and when you knew exactly what Camelot looked like?"
She laughed and nodded her head eagerly.
"Yes, I remember that. Everything was possible. I could walk along the top of a high brick wall without any fear."
"Yes, that's it. You know exactly what I mean. Well, I stayed that way. I grew up but I kept all that self belief right here."
I pointed to my heart. She stared at me but I knew that she wasn't seeing me. She was seeing something else. Something deep down inside of herself. I walked up to her and pulled her up by her hands.
"Come. I've already seen the road ahead. We're nearly there. It's time to move on."
She looked at me a little strangely, shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and then got ready to begin walking.
When we got to the dirt road, we stood next to it for a while. We looked down the road, we looked at each other and we looked down the road again.
"Alisha, this is where we part company. Your college is just around that bend over there. You're 10 minutes.from your destination."
I noticed how large her eyes had become.
"And you? Where are you going?"
"I'm going the other way. There's a small village 3 km down the road. My mother lives there. It's her birthday tomorrow. I have to be with her."

While keeping her eyes fixed on me, she waved her hand towards the forest that we had just passed through.
"And all that?"
"That was a magical event. Unplanned. A happening. A moment to treasure. A bond."
She nodded her head slowly.
"Well there's one thing. When I'm in the college, I won't have to visualise my food every morning."
I found that remark to bereally amusing. We both laughed...but then we both just as suddenly stopped.
"Dinel, please tell me. What do we do now?"
"Turn around Alisha and start walking. Don't look back. Walk into your new life. Learn about esoterics. About life in the Elysian fields. Practise your alliterations and your metaphors. Become what you wish. The world is now yours."
"And you? What about you?"
"I'll stand here and watch you until you disappear. Then I'll go to the village."
When I returned to my apartment in the city, my life began to change.
First of all, my mother began to phone me every evening and sometimes during the day. The mobile that I'd given her on her birthday had obviously become her most treasured and most used possession.
One evening, as we chatted about what I had eaten, whether I was dressing warmly and about an aunt that lived in Poland, she casually mentioned that she had a new friend. Someone who spent weekends with her. I said something like "that's nice" but she had more to say
"My son, something puzzles me. Did you tell her that a wriggling fish would teach her to write poetry?"

My heart skipped a beat or two and I blurted out "yes Mama. I told Alisha that."
"Oh yes. That's her name. I've become so forgetful, you know."
"That's OK Mama."
"Did you also tell her that she must hug a Wild Apple tree?"
"Yes Mama, I did. But it doesn't have to be a Wild Apple. Any tree will do."
"Hmmm I see. You know that she told me something else that was very strange."
"And what was that?"
"She said that she had visualised that you would come to visit me next week. I thought that it was a very strange thing to say. What did she mean by that, my son?"

I was silent for what seemed like an eternity.
"Mama, it means that I will come to visit you next week."