Sally Ito

Sally Ito is originally from Alberta, but now lives in Winnipeg, where she is Writer-in-residence at the University of Manitoba’s Centre for Creative Writing and Oral Culture. She has published three poetry collections: Frogs in the Rain Barrel, A Season of Mercy, and most recently Alert to Glory (2011, Turnstone Press). Ito reflects the diversity of her literary heritage with allusions to such diverse influences as the Bible, Jonathan Swift, T.S. Eliot and Margaret Avison.

Don Domanski wrote, “Alert to Glory shows us in poem after poem the subtle, fluent essence of the sacred, how it can heighten every thought and gesture...[T]his book is nothing less than a call and invocation to our deeper natures. No easy task and harder still to do it with such elegance.” The following poem comes from this excellent new collection.

Apprehend

To handcuff the world, make it prisoner to sense and scrutiny.
To apprehend. That is the poet’s task. The lonely jailer
seizing at the company of things. Not to possess or own
but rather to perceive the world like a nerve quickening
to touch, or a flank quivering to the wind. To apprehend
is surely one of God’s commandments to the steward, that poet,
who in his hour as policeman might enjoy the brief moment
of a world in fetters for him. Catch-and-release—the finny,
slippery silver underneath the hand—is the currency of joy,
the fine paid for the alertness and watching which is the poet’s
constant state. He apprehends, and the world is seized
and God makes wonder of his heart.

Posted with permission of the poet.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca

Mary Sidney Herbert

Mary Sidney Herbert (1561—1621) the Countess of Pembroke, is one of the first English women to be acknowledged as a significant writer. She was influential in many aspects of the society of her day. She established “The Wilton Circle” — a literary group which included Edmund Spenser and her brother, Sir Philip Sidney. She was also accomplished as a poet and theologian.

Her brother had been working on a verse translation of the Psalms at the time of his death (1586) — having completed the first 43 Psalms. Mary continued the project, translating Psalms 44 to 150. Her Psalm translations became very influential on the subsequent generation of British poets — particularly on John Donne and George Herbert.

In 1601, King James I visited her at Wilton, where he was entertained by Shakespeare’s company The King’s Men. Shakespeare’s first folio (1623) was dedicated to two of her sons.

Psalm 52

Tyrant, why swell'st thou thus,
------Of mischief vaunting?
Since help from God to us
------Is never wanting.

Lewd lies thy tongue contrives,
------Loud lies it soundeth;
Sharper than sharpest knives
------With lies it woundeth.

Falsehood thy wit approves,
------All truth rejected:
Thy will all vices loves,
------Virtue neglected.

Not words from cursed thee,
------But gulfs are poured;
Gulfs wherein daily be
------Good men devoured.

Think'st thou to bear it so?
------God shall displace thee;
God shall thee overthrow,
------Crush thee, deface thee.

The just shall fearing see
------These fearful chances,
And laughing shoot at thee
------With scornful glances.

Lo, lo, the wretched wight,
------Who God disdaining,
His mischief made his might,
------His guard his gaining.

I as an olive tree
------Still green shall flourish:
God's house the soil shall be
------My roots to nourish.

My trust in his true love
------Truly attending,
Shall never thence remove,
------Never see ending.

Thee will I honour still,
------Lord, for this justice;
There fix my hopes I will
------Where thy saints' trust is.

Thy saints trust in thy name,
------Therein they joy them:
Protected by the same,
------Naught can annoy them.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca

John Reibetanz

John Reibetanz was born in New York City in 1944, but has made his home in Toronto. He has taught for many years at the University of Toronto’s Victoria College. In 2004 he won the Petra Kenny Poetry Competition.

In 2012 Rufus Books published Péter Cserháti: hidden treasures in woodcarving, sculpture and sketches, which combines images of Cserháti's art with ekphrastic poems by John Reibetanz in a beautiful limited-editon book.

The following poem is from his seventh collection Transformations (2006); the poem first appeared in Southern Review, and was also included in the anthology Poetry as Liturgy which was edited by Margo Swiss.

Wells Cathedral, Afloat

Light spreads it maplike on the water’s glass-topped table,
--sleeks the seamless join of sky and stone.
----Light’s ripples whisper to your soul
------this is the real cathedral.

Where liquid air laps liquid arches that support
--a dove-grey haze of ashlar, buttresses
----flutter their wings and God’s house sails,
------both ark and Ararat.

The master mason and his fellows carved a vision:
--these wells its harbour, hooded from Atlantic winds
----by mortared walls that bishops and deans
------put their solid faith in.

Masons knew stone too well to trust their heaven to it.
--Earth-anchored, blind to light, pried from its bed
----with pain, the Judas stone betrayed
------their backs and drank their blood.

They raised that pile as template for this floating prayer.
--Here no roof argues with the stars, no tower
----shadows the houses of the poor.
------The walls are holy water.

Within, the font refills itself and overflows,
--flooding the crypt where sun-scaled rainbows spawn.
----Rooted tendrils of a true vine
------thread the Jesse window.

Knock, and the door will open, softly taking your hand.
--To enter, you must give up all you have,
----blow your last breath back to land,
------let your lips close on heaven.

Posted with permission of the poet.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca

Li Bifeng

Li Bifeng is a Chinese poet and dissident. He was first imprisoned for being part of the Tiananmen Square democracy movement of 1989, and imprisoned again in 1998 for writing poetry that promoted freedom. It was during this second incarceration that Li Bifeng became a Christian.

On November 19, 2012 he was sentenced to prison, again, after having been illegally held for more than a year on fraud charges, which PEN International believes are without foundation and politically motivated. He has been in prison for a total of twelve years since 1990. Some believe recent charges are meant as vengeance for Li Bifeng supposedly assisting fellow-writer, Liao Yiwu financially in his escape from China. Liao Yiwu is author of the recent book God Is Red, which is about how Christianity has flourished in Communist China. Li’s 17-year-old son is now studying in Canada with the financial support of those who want to protect him from the treatment he may receive if he returns to China.

In This Country, We Can Only Hibernate

Winter arrives too early.
Our trees begin to wither.
We no longer have the nutrients to offer them;
Our dark hair slowly freezes to white
In the snows of passing time.
Our skin is like chapped fields.
Winter is here,
We all love to hibernate.
Our hearts are tired
Our blood is tired,
We nestle beneath the snow to hibernate.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca