I have been writing stuff lately. Lots of poems, sure. I’m writing a short story. It’s a heist and it has to be 3,000 words or less. I’m expecting to have to cut a lot of stuff! I am doing research into Western ballads because I have a story I’d like to tell and it feels like that would be the best way to tell it. I am thinking about how to incorporate burlesque into my poetry. I’m thinking of something slightly different that the spoken word-burlesque that a friend does, but I don’t quite have it figured out yet. So, yes, writing stuff. Then,yesterday I was stopped in my tracks. Like a punch that takes all the breath out of you. A man died. I did not know this man very well, but he was an important part of Saskatoon’s spoken word poetry community. I don’t know that he was the heart of the community, but he was important, like a leg or spleen. He made everyone feel welcome. He wanted everyone to be welcome. He was a good soul. He will be missed. The many Facebook tributes confirm that he was loved and will be missed. And, his being dead feels weird. I’ve had people die on me before and it always feels weird. One day you’re talking to them on the phone and then you can’t do that any more. You remember that you may have behaved badly or selfishly the last time you saw them and now you can’t apologize. And, even though I didn’t know him very well this death seemed almost weirder to me. His Facebook page said he was going to be at last night’s poetry show, but, of course, he wasn’t. It said he would be at Sunday’s poetry slam, but, of course, he won’t be. I guess it felt weird to see his plans for the next few days knowing that those plans would remain unaccomplished. But also weird to think about how life goes on even when someone dies. It’s just weird. I keep thinking I should have gotten to know him better. It would have been easy for me to sit beside him once or twice. But I’m kind of shy and he was a big man with big energy and I never quite got around to getting to know him better. As so often happens I was awoken early this morning with words in my head. Words that make me find my notebook and pen because if I don’t write them down right now they will be lost. And, those words were for Bran.
I didn’t know you well, but you were a good soul and I will miss you, Bran Everseeking. I hope someone saves you a seat at Tonight It’s Poetry on Sunday.
Be Lovely to Each Other,