Trying to figure out where we are either on a map or in our station in life can be a daunting task. Have we made all the right turns and are we pointed in the right direction? Or are there perils and dangers ahead that will block our success in our journey. That is the type of questions Rhonda Batchelor asks in her collection of poetry called Bearings.
Suite Page 7 (excerpt)
Green foliage curls in at the edges of this room
where light, at the whim of the season
can hit with unbending force,
melting the south and west walls.
It can hurt the human eye to sit here at sunset.
The cats come in only after dark
to cry for food, to inspect the curling corners
and to sleep with their backs to the west. Often
I wait for hours before turning on the lamp, preferring
the sure descent of shadow from the angled ceiling.
Batchelor has travelled quite the length of human emotions in this slim volume (44 pages). Her words bring forward a multitude of images to the mind’s eye while reading her words.
Leaving Home (Page 9)
I am dreaming I am waking
in my parents’ house in my old room.
In the winter dark I trail
down creaking stairs to where
my mother sleeps. I steal
several coins from a bedside table,
leave her to her heavy dreams.
In the snow I run to a corner bus
stop where the driver waits
with the lights on. Climbing
aboard I forget my direction but he
eases us out under the night sky,
tells me I’ll need to transfer.
While the words she uses may seem personal, they are documenting emotions and feelings that we all have had. We are not alone with the situations she talks about beautifully here.
What shall we name it (Page 29)
your first comment after our last mistake
rolling off me like warm water to
wait beside my silence what do I
say to you it’s okay if I am
I am a dark pool
I won’t disturb just yet thinking
instead about a city I saw tonight
reflected in classified
ads you read to me about big
trucks and big money oil towns
long highways between
you and me we’ll have both do
what we have to toss a stone
see which way the circles go.
Rhonda Batchelor has documented many stations poetically in her collection Bearings. A strong read filled with emotions and angst that is universally felt.