As a poet, Richard was one to primarily point to the work of others through such activities as his long-running blog Recovering Words, and one who dedicated his time to leading poetry writing workshops and poetry as prayer retreats. His first full-length collection Hyaena Season was published by Quattro Books in 2016.
One connection I had with Richard was selecting, and working with him on, one of his poems for the outdoor art exhibits of Imago’s project Crossings which appeared in downtown and midtown Toronto throughout Easter 2022. His last e-mail to me came less than a month before he was taken by cancer in late October. He said, “These last 16 weeks since diagnosis [have been] the most meaningful of my life.”
He says in a poem from his new book:
----Give death a face a voice directed me.
----My own face now wise with the news
----of death inside of me. If I walk
----to the mirror and look is it me I see
----or death now come out from hiding
----inside my face?
Richard died just hours after he had attended an online launch for his final poetry collection, What Holiness Will I Bring? (2024, Frontenac House). In describing Richard’s insistence on revealing to us this “art of knowing / and being known” Ilya Kaminsky said “This insistence is generosity. What do we learn? We learn to live passionately, intently, with a fire of clarifying search. We learn poetry is a spiritual discipline, the kind in which the world is our friend.”
Many years ago, Richard sent me a copy of his privately printed chapbook Not Yet (2006). Here, I will share one of the poems from that book.
Remnants
Faith is this day:
Waves gather up and fall.
Sun pours in from the east.
Tethered boats move
out on the bay. The breeze knows
my face. The brown dog belongs
to its stick, my throwing, the water
that holds them both up
and her sad moaning when I stop.
I have faith in this breathing
and writing and the crow’s black caw.
These geese left with three goslings
from April’s twelve. The smaller stick
chewed and now in pieces at my feet.
The volcano’s black stones
lost in a mountain’s last breath.
The driftwood logs left on the beach.
My own life, coming apart
into the smaller things —
this day
holding my faith in the promise
of another.
*This is the second Kingdom Poets post about Richard Osler: first post.
Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of five poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Cascade) ― a book of poems written from the point-of-view of angels. His books are available through Wipf & Stock.
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