Chapter 37 [Talon Theater—An Hour Later]
[A/N: Since yesterday's section was so short, here's another part. Rumi's poetry was translated into English by Coleman Barks for various print editions and can be found at ,uk. The haiku and other poems are my original compositions.]
The audience, armed with fresh coffee and sweet treats, reclined in their seats. A few sent last minute texts from their phones. Some snapped pictures of the revived ancient auditorium. The elders amongst them recalled the last such reading….
…of the magic Dave sparked in that place with his poetry and declaration to his then girlfriend in front of them. Now he'd returned and brought others capable of similar things….
Excitement built around that place. A few nerves did as well.
Lana smoothed her best dress down. She bit her lip. Granted she was glad that the reading was taking place. Still she did wish that someone else could be the MC. Why can't I do the flowers like Mom did or help with the stage as Dad and Mr. Kent did? Lex knows I hate public speaking. She sipped on a steaming mug of coffee. Her eyes glanced back at the panel who reviewed their own notes.
Are you okay? Clark asked telepathically.
I feel like the floor's going to swallow me up. What if I embarrass myself or worse? Her heart beat faster and faster.
You won't embarrass yourself. You're introducing our friends. Lex has confidence in you. I do too. You can do this, he assured her.
Warmth washed away Insecurity's chill and buoyed her spirits up. Thanks, Clark. I love you.
I love you too. It'll be ok, he reiterated.
I can hope. She took another gulp of coffee. Then she headed over to the group. "Hey, Everyone. How's it going?"
The quartet exchanged looks. Then Jasmine agreed, "We are ready. Go ahead."
Lana nodded. She meandered to the podium set up in the front. She sucked in another breath. A glance toward Lex and a nod from him provided her cue. She cleared her throat. "Attention, Everyone. Can I have your attention? Good Evening and thanks for coming out tonight. Welcome to the Talon. You all know the café of course. Still there is more to come. You are sitting in the other part of our mutual dream. The best of old and new. Tonight we revive a piece of Smallville's past. For more on that, I'm going to turn things over to my business partner, Lex Luthor. Lex?"
Lex strolled over to the podium and accepted the microphone. "Thanks, Lana. I'd like to add my thanks to everyone joining us. As she just said, Folks, this is another stage in a mutual dream. Smallville may be a farming community. That's great. Still we can be a cultural center too. My mother thought as much too. She sponsored the last reading here in 1981. Who knows? Maybe we can make this a regular occurrence? We can discuss this. Suggestions are always welcome. In the meantime, we have four speakers tonight with diverse themes. Byron Moore is a local poet. Princess Jasmine Bey of Javalastan will read some Middle Eastern poetry. Nyoki Tuishiama is a professor of Asian Literature. David Dubois is a librarian and quite the poet in his own right. So with no further ado, I turn this over to our panel. Jasmine?"
Jasmine stood slowly. She smoothed her white blouse and dark slacks. Then she walked up to the podium. "Thank you, Alexander. Good evening, my Friends. Tonight we have a diverse group of writings from several backgrounds for you. It is not our wish to overwhelm but rather present diverse views for your consideration. For my part, I wish to share some works from my favorite poet. Rumi was a spiritual poet from the late medieval period—13th or 14th centuries by your western reckoning. Much as with some of your Christian mystics and saints, he wrote of deeper spiritual energies in our lives. I have a few such pearls for your consideration." She collected herself and started to read:
"Like This
Rumi
"If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is,
or what "God's fragrance" means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don't try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to "die for love," point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.
When someone doesn't believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they're telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do, Like this.
light the candle in his hand.
How did Joseph's scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob's sight return?
Huuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Like this.
When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he'll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us
Like this."
The audience sucked in a deep breath. For the most part, they sat entranced. Awe held their attention rapt. Then slowly applause came from the back. It spread across the theater and through the air. The energy cascaded across the area.
"Thank you, All. I have a few more for you. And here is another…." Jasmine drank from her water and pressed on.
"A Moment of Happiness
Rumi
A moment of happiness,
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden's beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land."
This time, the applause came almost instantly. Approval crashed into Jasmine and yet buoyed her up. She smiled. Another sip went from water glass to her lips. Then she read more poems one after the other. When the last clapping had subsided, she bowed. "I appreciate the opportunity to share my culture with you. Thank you for being most kind and receptive. Lana?" She held her hand out to Lana.
Lana clapped in mid-stride. "Well done, Jasmine. We can enjoy the verse and images from Rumi's spiritual verse. Now we shift to Japanese haiku. And for that, we have another expert, Dr. Nyoki Tuishiama. Dr. Tuishiama?"
Grace guided Nyoki to her feet. She smoothed her blouse and skirt. Then she walked to the podium. "Hai. Domo, Lana." She took a sip from her own water glass and then began, "As Princess Jasmine's region has its special poetry so too does mine. Each has its meanings and images. Even the formats differ. Still expression is important. We share distinct variations in all cases. Such is the nature of haiku." She sipped on her water again. "The pieces are very short. They tell series of images. As the expression says, moments in time. Yes? For example:
Water flows downstream
Trickle starts in obscure place
Ends mature in sea"
She allowed a couple of heartbeats for the audience to process her piece. Then she continued, "And this one.
Autumn chill sways leaves
In reds, oranges and yellows burn
Ere they fall below"
Another sip crossed her lips. "And this….
Apple's red green pleases eye
Tang and sweet pleases mouth
Sacrifice pleases overall"
For the next few minutes, she continued on this track. Almost in sync, she'd take a draught. Then she'd recite another haiku. Finally she drained the last of the glass. "Domo arighato, my Friends. Thank you." She bowed to the audience. "Lana?"
As Lana walked back toward the podium, the audience clapped. Smiles and nods came from their faces and heads. While different, they recognized the value in the distinct perspectives and the little details.
"Thanks, Dr. Tuishiama. Quite a list of images and expressions. Imagine watching a river, eating an apple or looking at Fall foliage would inspire like that? Fascinating." Lana smiled and nodded. "Our next poet is from Smallville. Byron Moore's inspirations come from the classical poets and romantics. Those of us who know him clearly enjoy his talent. Hopefully everyone else will too. Byron?" She motioned to the resident poet.
Byron shuffled from his seat. Anxiety and Nerves ate at him and weighed his feet down. Still Sandra's eyes twinkled. Amor buoyed his resolve. He made his way toward the podium. "Thanks, Lana. I will do my best to meet the Muse's challenge." He surveyed the audience. "Good Evening, Everyone. Thank you for allowing me to address you in this august place. Given the artistic nectar which has dripped from its walls, the projector yonder and this screen behind me, it is special. I hope to measure up." He considered the parchment papers in his hand. "This one is called Traditions.
Traditions
Byron Moore
October 2003
Born we are
Into places distinct
Near and far
In chain separate links
Value we do
Our little ring
Its virtue true
And joy it brings
Values it has
Tradition to respect
With family mass'd
Our history on which reflect
Yet questions rise
Consider other parts
What of individual size?
What of distinct hearts?
While part of whole
Each has distinct strengths
From heart cajoled
And to its end, to go great lengths
Also what of the larger chain?
Our links form a whole
Do they not?
How much does that claim?
Have we Identity sold?
Matters it little or lot?
Answers I do not have
None clearly come
On Patience's box I tap
Her melody my lips hum
Life is balance
Value we each link
Yet as chain enhances variance
And much on which to think.
My fellow poets and I
We offer different views
As diverse as stars in sky
Yet serving the Muse True
Perhaps if we
If our world
If we could do the same
We ourselves'd free
Rather than lay curl'd
Under tyranny of Blame."
Byron sucked in a deep breath. A small smile snaked across his faces. His fingers twitched. "Thank you, Everyone." He turned to Lana. "Might I have some water please? It seems the expression hath parched them more than I realized."
"Sure." Lana stifled a chuckle. She poured a glass of water. Then she handed it to him. "That was great."
"Thank you." Byron took a draught. Then he considered the parchments again. One by one he read poems from that collection of works. For a half hour, he pressed on. Then he looked up.
The audience stared back. Silence shocked their ears. They wanted…no craved…more.
Byron fought back Amazement's shock. After so long in the dark, he couldn't believe people accepted his work and him. He nodded. "I have more to share at a further point. I do not wish to detract from the larger group. Anticipation will make the work sweeter on our next meeting." He inhaled a deeper breath. Then he turned back toward Lana. "I believe, O' Mistress of Ceremony, that is your cue?" He bowed to the audience.
As one, the group rose and rained thunderous applause down on him. They clearly wanted more. Perhaps the opportunity would come now that they knew of him.
"Thanks, Byron. He's something. Isn't he? Much like the others in our group. We're all gifted and yet we work well together." Lana allowed her eyes to glisten at Clark. Separate and yet inseparable. Two parts of one as your poem said.
Clark cleared his throat. Sentiment moved him. He enjoyed his friends and their associates finding their stride. Still he couldn't believe he could celebrate his love so openly for his barista fair. Always, Lana. I'll try to be the best for you.
That's all I can ask, Clark, Lana assured him. Then she cleared her throat. "Now we hear from the last member of our group. Those of you who were here in 1981 remember his last reading right here. His work brought light and hope to our town in the days following the standoff right outside of this theater. He healed. He found love. He inspired. Now he wishes to reprise that moment with all of us again. Here's David Dubois. Mr. Dubois?"
Dave squeezed Angie's hand. Then he joined Lana at the podium. "Thank you, Lana. I can't believe we're all back here again. It's been far too long. Still our world always needs more light to balance the darkness. That light can come in different forms. Each of us tonight has our way of expression. They're unique and different. Still they are all valid as Byron's first poem eloquently stated. We all mature and flow toward our destiny as Dr. Tushiama's piece suggested. We love and are loved as Rumi would say." He nodded to his fellow panelists. "I have a few things from my past as well. Some you'll recognize. Some are newer. "First, there is something about this place. Here goes….
Whispers I sit here tonight with you All around How many folk Which films came here? Relationships come and go
In this hallowed hall
Under a canopy of blue
Feeling rather awed
History is here
Speaking with low sound
Wishing us to it hear
Young and old
Boy and Girl
Walked by this oak? taps shoe on stage
Eating popcorn sold
While the bin outside did twirl?
Which events?
Outside was left fear
In here, Love is meant
This, I understand
But those past ones speak low
To continue their tradition, they demand
Thus, I end
This, I say
To you, my friend
Stand with me, I do pray"
The crowd applauded, giving him a minute to collect himself before flipping to the next piece.
Place from the Heart Over the past two weeks Everyone, for that and more
I've seen and heard
To thank me, everyone seeks
With their every word
I am blessed
You all make my heart soar
For what I almost missed
Smallville is a treasure This, I saw While sitting across the way Lionel had dismissed me Seeing you here with me
A place locked in time
Nurturing its value
That is beyond measure
In money or rhyme
For your hearts true
My first day here
As the fathers' law
And Progress drew near
A couple with me spoke
What they to me said
Destiny's final words wrote
Telling me that I mattered not
Though with Hindsight's ear
He knows what we have wrought
Makes this all worthwhile
As Smallville's past is free
And to see you all smile."
Dave took a sip from a steaming mug. Much as with Nyoki and Jasmine, he read poem after poem from his collection. Then, as he took the last drop, he sighed. "We have room for one more. So it seems that there's this….
Successes We venture down the road Our loads mirror each other Such is the way
Day by day
Bearing Concern's load
With little Gain
Yet slightly different, they are
As is brother from brother
Or near is to far
For people at Life's fork
Whether they're on Cape Cod Bay
Or from Upstate New York
Many do pass the crossroad Others, though The good travelers collaborate Over the last years four As much as I tried We've borne the weight We've done a lot Yet Life, ah she's not done Together stand we
Saying not a word
Concerned, they are, with their load
Flying away faster than a bird
Stop and see
What their colleagues bear
Never considering if friend or foe
That person be
About that, less they could care
Sharing each others' load
In this way, they reciprocate
As down the road, they go
We journeyers few
Have opened many a door
And shared much too
To do for you
You all wouldn't hide
From doing for me too
All of us
In good times and bad
Early or late
Without fuss
Whether senior or lad
Today we celebrate
Our diplomas hard-for-fought
Our feelings, we satiate
With our trip
Slack? She gives none
Free passes? Zip.
At today's crossroad
And so must we tomorrow
If we are to be free
In closing, I thank you
For warmth and bliss
For being friends true
May every moment be like this…."
The audience didn't wait. They stood as one and applauded. Much as in the past, Dave's pieces struck the mark again. Granted it was in a different way than everyone else's. Still his message blended in with everyone else's.
And in such ways, the night proved successful…..