Morning Star or Evening Star

This is a photo of my father and five of his seven children. 

I am the oldest; I am not in this photo.

My baby sister, Marjory Ann (for my father's mother) 

was not yet born when this photo was taken.

The whole family drove west in 1947 to be sealed in the Temple 

and to visit the Western relatives and attend the celebrations 

for the Centennial of the Mormon entry into Salt Lake Valley in 1847.

My brothers wore these outfits. which my mother sewed for them 

and called clamdiggers, They had them in white corduroy (for the temple) 

and in yellow and peach chambrays 

as well as in blue and white stripes. Robert was still in diapers, 

and David often should have been, 

I remember having to change all four outfits (so they would match) 

when he dirtied his on the trip. 

The boys were born between 1941 and 1945.

Robert had his arm on a cast during the trip, 

so this was taken before we went, I think, Or after? But 1947. . .

My sister Susan (named for my mother's mother) and who just died this year, 

is here in a striped shirt, with her sweet smile...

And I am probably off somewhere in a tree, reading a book.

My father was an engineer for General Electric;

he always wore a suit to work--with a white shirt and a tie.

He didn't have sport shirts or tee shirts;

the white shirts went through phases. This is

a picture of Phase Two. The shirt is still nice and ironed,

but the sleeves have been cut off and rolled. 

It is worn as a sport shirt, with the top button sometimes left unbuttoned.

Later the collar and even the sleeves will be torn off

and the shirt will be worn for rough work.

Lastly, my favorite thing about this photo

is that the whiteness of the shirt was too intense for the film

and gives it a celestial glow, which moves out into the air

around my father.

CATHEDRAL

                                    (the final section)

To read again

by the lights of the city

lights

reflected in the windows of the past

a stone wall

towering above the river

morning star

or evening star

the many facets

facing west

solid with 

pink but fading light

to read again, unmoored

as if inside the blackbird's song

clear

unadorned

while overhead

the sky begins to darken

not quite swallowing

the city

and some other life begins

to read that is

although with difficulty

in that fading light

the names of rivers

faces other cities

stone walls that may yet be to be found

strung out along the river

on its short course to the sea

                         --Durham, 2007, along the River Wear

Roo Borson

Rain, road, an open boat; poems by Roo Borson;

winner of the Griffin Poetry Prize, McClelland and Stewart, 

Ontario, Canada, 2012, pages 75-77. 

(This is the final poem in the book.)

I think this is a poem about memory. Roo Borson 

is one of my favorite poets; I have talked about

her work in two other posts on this blog. This poem has 

very short stanzas and a location note, but is not limited 

to a single chain of thought. It functions by accretion

in a very poetic manner. It "contains multitudes" like the

work of Walt Whitman, but in a quieter way.

So your task is to locate yourself in a place or on a journey

and assemble the poem from shards, fragments and 

frangrances of your own memories and cultural memories.

Good night. jhh