Hi Arthur,
I, too, had hazy recollections of this... but, no matter! I'm enjoying what
I'm reading here!
I think you've got just the right tone, the right things said at the right
time, and everything has significance! I feel the cultural differences, the
language differences (drawn out by the couplet:
"My mother, somewhere, at home,
home, somewhere, my mother was dying."
which speaks to me powerfully of how they would say things differently as
well as the way your mind was taking things in).
The title threw me, tho! I felt it was part of their language!
Just a thought... Could the last line start with the word "As" or "While"?
Sometimes small words like that can add to a tenderness.
It's a cracker!
Bob
>From: arthur seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New Sub: Agenbite of Inwit
>Date: Sun, 27 Apr 2003 20:32:56 +0100
>
> Agenbite of Inwit.
>
>In the murmur of voices I recognised my name,
>laid my book aside, lifted my curtain, stepped into the glare
>
>of their scrutiny. They had gathered in shade
>under the banyan where light through leaves
>
>flickered over the grass and tufts of kapok floated.
>They waited as I read the message.
>
>My mother, somewhere, at home,
>home, somewhere, my mother was dying.
>
>They searched my eyes as I folded the paper,
>neat as a bed-sheet fresh from the line,
>
>and tucked it into the breast pocket
>of my chilled, soaked shirt.
>
>I turned to find my long road home;
>the curtain bulged in a wind from the west.
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