Poem 397

I used to see this middle-aged Salvation Army woman walking in places you wouldn’t normally stroll for enjoyment … it got me thinking that there’s no difference in appearance between a Christian soldier on a mission to help and that same person walking her despair out to the jumping-off point … we assume certainty in other people, particularly if they’re wearing a uniform, but what if every day for her is a titanic battle between hope and its opposite? …

( I like the juicy mouthful of sea-shattering cataclysm, the little chain of wrest/wring/brisk/kiss, the grave-like scraped shingle ditch, the way the plane’s shadow makes a cross that momentarily catches but then deserts her, the Janus faces of God’s grace … and the double meaning in the name of one of Wellington’s most uninspiring suburbs, the jet can escape to find new lands but that is impossible for her … )

Struggle Every Day

Out around Evans Bay
where the wind scatters the clouds
and sends shell bursts of sun
into the hills
                         beside the water
the huge land reclamation
concrete block teeth
chewing into froth wave
after wave and under
the sea-shattering cataclysm
of the Qantas morning jet
she is walking
clutching her bonnet
one salvation army lady
against all the violence in the world

she is looking for suicides
alone down there in the eruption
of the bay this morning
spotting any corpses
the sea may be wearing out the corner
of its mouth
                        she will wrest them
wring them out with a brisk kiss of life
flag down a 22 Miramar Express
and put them on it
with a warm change of clothes

but I fear for her

there is too much darkness between the rocks
and dark water pulsing up
and dirty foam
                              she looks too long
what if she were to lose her sensible shoes
down the concrete crack
or in the scraped shingle ditch
before a wave

                               under scattery sun
hundred mile cloud
indifferent thunder of steel
catching her in its crux like a gunsight
the shadowy cross of the plane
flickers out across the water
leaps the hill to Newlands
is gone