Poets for Anansi

Ellen Goldberg read some of her very powerful poetry Sunday night as a benefit for Anansi, an organization that raises money to send teenagers to high school in Ghana. Ellen lives in Portland, so it has been my very good fortune to hear her read several times, each time more dazzling to me than the last. Her poems take unexpected turnings. She surprises me every time. She has been one of Sue's close friends for forty-plus years and was looking at Sue when I took this picture. I observe their friendship, rich with all the years of their growing, and I beam in their happiness.

Ellen's father died when she was eight years old, and she has written a poem in his voice, as if he were talking to her, since she was too young when he died to be able to talk much to him. Here is how it ends:

Here, forget the snapshots,
I'll show you one time,
once when you and I were sitting on the grass out front,
no one took the picture,
we were throwing, well rolling actually,
a pink ball, back and forth back and forth,

me and you the baby daughter
in front of those red trumpet flowers your
mother called four o'clocks.
There was sun on your head
and you were waving your hands in the air,
fat little golden birds.

Watching you wave your hands
I was light in the chest for a minute,
you so intelligent, the way you looked at me.
Who would have known I'd be leaving you soon?
You just squealed and laughed and laughed with that game.
That's what I loved to hear, and that day,
looking at the sun on your head,
I had to laugh too. I thought,
"This is what I like. I needed this,"
which sounds like something you would say, doesn't it?

P.S. for those of you who write: Sharon Salzberg is collecting love stories (not just adult passionate love, but all kinds of love)--and you might consider contributing, if this calls to you.