Elisabeth Wentworth: Two Poems

State of Grace           

For Vicki Walker’s U3A Poetry Class

 

There is a grace in the room

When these lovers of poetry

Gather every Thursday in term.

The collective noun might be a rustle

or a roar.

Quiet attention, companionable laughter,

Glorious disagreement, but no feuds.

 

They are immune or indifferent

To the schisms and wars

Of the other universities.

Was it claustrophobia,

A contempt bred by the familiar faculty

That led so many to waste the gift in vitriol?

 

Her selections are not political.

Fashions are irrelevant, factions ignored.

She asks only, is it fine?

Is it worthy of the page?

Do we relish the sound of the words

Lifted into air?

 

She is a gentle and scholarly teacher

And they bring the wisdom of long life

But do not underestimate the might

Of those of the Third Age

Who come with open minds to the table

Their generous hostess has laid.

 

In her living room, the poet is welcome.

Rarely present in body, no matter.

To be read in that tapestried sanctum

Is to be lifted from the crowded bookshelf

Seated in a comfortable chair

And given eternal life.

 

I would have it named and honoured—

This blessed every-Thursday rite

And make it a model for all our Ages.

But they would laugh, and continue their discussion

And the work of bringing glory back into the world

In accordance with her benevolent manifesto.

 

Elisabeth Wentworth 

 

 

Returning Servicemen

 

War is like illness.

When it is over we forget

And shy away from reminders,

The leftover medicines

 

The appliances that helped us breathe

In the long night.

I am well now, we think,

I am not one of them.

 

Churchill learned it the hard way.

It was not lack of gratitude

That defeated him.

Simply that his voice

 

Reminded his people

Of the singing of the bombs.

At least he had his histories

To console him.

 

Pity the soldiers who return too late,

When the fear has gone

The cause is overtaken or

Our fickle attention has shifted.

 

That first, slight, distancing

Will break their hearts.

 

 

Elisabeth Wentworth