Amber Bowerman

One of the lead stories on the CBC this morning is about the scholarships created in memory of Amber Bowerman. I only met her once, as a moderator for a session she gave at an AMPA conference a couple of years back, but she struck me that morning as being a wonderful, compassionate person who had made all the choices necessary to pursue a life of publishing and writing that truly fulfilled her. Not all of us have the strength of character to do what she did. It is wonderful to see that her life is not a total waste, that a legacy of helping other developing writers do what she did continues for students across Alberta.

stolen from bp (martyrology book 1)

we have moved beyond belief
into a moon that is no longer there

i used to love you (i think)
used to believe in the things i do
now all is useless repetition
my arms ache from not holding you

the winds blow unfeelingly across your face
& the space between us
is as long as my arm is not

the language i write is no longer spoken

my hands turn the words
clumsily

*****

my lady my lady

this is the day i want to cry for you
but my eyes are dry

somewhere i'm happy

not like the sky
outside this window
gone grey

*****
*****

this is the line between reality
when i hold your body
enter the only way i am

saint orm
keep her from harm

this ship journey safely

quick as it can

*****

no movement in the sky
from the corner where the four winds lie

& the colour of her eyes too
did i tell you how my lady moves?

holds me to her tight
she can

love to feel her
moving with me

into that sweet togetherness presses us thru