Yesterday I was told that my poem, North Wind has been nominated for the 2012 Pushcart Prize. Since being told this news I have been mulling over the process of a poem and how it evolves. Particularly for this very personal poem it feels as if it has travelled to the moon and back (and perhaps I have travelled with it as companion).
North Wind concentrates on one of my visits to Sligo when I was staying with a dear friend. It also concentrates on a time when I was preparing to leave Ireland and make the long journey back to Australia after my residency at Annaghmakerrig. On my last night in Sligo (and in fact Ireland) I listened to my friend read at a Poetry Ireland event in town with two other poets then we all made the journey back to Maugherow to have a late dinner of Indian takeaway as the north wind pressed against the living room windows.
Its presence was alive and strong, and as much of a dinner guest as I was. It had been trying to arrive all day as we drove around the coast from place to place to make sure I got a good view of my beloved Atlantic. (Thank you, Mary) And in retrospect I came to see its arrival as a harbinger of some sort. Something you would find in a fairytale, perhaps. Its symbolism was potent for my active imagination. What did it all mean? Perhaps not what I thought at the time, but I am still adamant of the poem's last lines:
And in my mind’s eye
I travelled with velocity and turbulence.
I travelled with the north wind
because it’s where I gather strength.
It’s where I exist in full fathom,
even when I’m shaken and shaking.
(from North Wind)