n.b. page under construction formatting of the poem still needs to be done
(to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the opening of the Welland Canal)
1979
Hear and see an audiovisual interpretation of canals by Ennio A. Paola
Welland springs . . .
summers . . .
autumn days . . .
long passed by me this place,
long recalling by name my scent,
witnessing no longer those energies of days,
witnessing no longer –
times i would skip smooth rounded pebbles
out into calmness of waters still –
forever challenging,
•as i would count in henges[i]
the number(s) of landings each arm’s throw could make –
forever challenging,
as i would sadly show ′on face,
the passing of every circle’s trace.
digging
.
& .
.
winding . . . a winding roadpath d
. i
& . g
. .
sinking .
.
a digging sacrifice s
i
n
k
. . sinking
. . &
. . . . digging
. &
. winding
sinking
.
.
.
winding
.
.
.
digging
.
to bed at bottom’s deep –
to final resting sleep –
.
.
.
winding
.
.
.
digging
.
.
.
sinking
.
.
.
’till wind,
’till sea,
’till air,
and i,
stood alone (glance) watching –
stood alone (glance) waiting –
l
o
n
g her rugged banks,
idly silent;
silently idle,
beneath the knife – edge stab of a seagull’s screech.
silently idle;
idly silent.
until broken –
shattered –
torn –
by the long steel ships of every flag,
by the cargoweight of every float,
transcending the distances of me –
transcending the distances of this –
man’s beast of nature’s burden
man’s burden of nature’s beast.
but come now, come,
come rise and rush onward to play only me,
and play only me with all your sea – might and your wave – glory,
for the pebbles i once held,
polished and tossed,
can no longer match the strokes now ripping
deep into the very breast of tranquility,
into the very heart of undisturbed waters,
the very soul of my boyish grin,
very time and place of my youth,
time the circles i once drew,
and places where laughter always grew.
come now, come,
come rise and rush onward to play only me.
and play only me with all your sea – might and your wave – glory,
for the waves you now spread,
shape,
fashion and build,
will slow in time,
to drift and diminish in their desperate
hoursmoment to reach my feet –
to reach; to touch . . .
until reach and touch they can no longer –
only sleep . . .
rest in sleep, to the full of smooth rounded pebbles tossed,
•as I would count in henges the number(s) of landings each arm’s throw could make.
[i] Henge: an upright stone, as in Stonehenge.
Published in Spirit of the Big Ditch: The Story of the Welland Canals in Pictures, Poems and Songs. Compiled, edited and annotated by Robert Ratcliffe Taylor. St. Catharines: The Historical Society of St. Catharines, 2024
The Historical Society of St. Catharines 