Day 4 – Libraries, Sacred Spaces of Kindness
This poem explores the wonder of Libraries as I have known them in Australia. So good for those are able to enjoy them. Generally, places of kindness and calm.
Shhhh ….
There’s something sacred about a Library.
Whether huge City Libraries in grand old buildings,
or even a travelling library in a bus.
They are holy spaces, whatever holiness means to you.
I have sweet memories of them –
places where community embraces us,
if not, sadly, all.
Now, there are two reasons why Libraries are precious.
One is books, of course, and the other, anonymous people.
And what is exciting to me is the union of the two,
that we aside, may never know.
So which books has that old man taken to check-out now?
Standing at the counter presenting them like a baby to the nurse
for weighing and examination.
Is it history, or gardens, theology, murders or Shakespeare?
I really can’t tell but I hear his deep voice, and observe his erect stature.
I’ll take a stab it’s the Bard, and he,
To Be or Not To Be, a Veritable Thespian.
I could be right, I could be wrong.
Truth is, I’ll never know and the Librarian isn’t telling.
Schoolchildren are of course always there for serious study,
that’s why there’s so much cackling going on
between them across the table.
Shhhh doesn’t work any more.
See that girl with the curly hair,
she is definitely making eyes at me,
not true,
it’s the boy sitting opposite
with the fluttering eyes.
Now, see that sad young woman,
presenting three books from a carry bag.
Hardly a smile.
She looks tired of breathing.
I wonder, does her lover not love ’er anymore.
So what books has she chosen?
Something to lift her spirits, help her dream,
or is it part of accountancy studies?
It is possible, I whisper silently in my head
that it could be love,
or the wish of it,
but it also could be
a how-to-book on home vasectomies’.
Her secret, my loss.
(And if so, later, his.)
I’ll never know.
In a Library there are millions of words and people represented.
But what of the homeless people who would just love to be there
on a cold and windy day or when the sun shines too brightly.
Sometimes they can, sometimes not.
Not their choice, place or time, unfortunately.
There’s privilege in the sacred.
There shouldn’t be.
Random books and random people,
meeting on various shelves.
You think their reading a one-sided conversation,
but no, each reader contributes much to what they read.
The author writes and readers rewrite in their minds over and over again.
Just like a movie, what you see
will be different in many ways to what I see.
We go together, we take from it
what meets our hearts, our minds, our stories and our worlds.
And we tell each, only what we want to say.
The rest we keep in the hidden Libraries of our minds.
No wonder Libraries are sacred.
Places of intrigue and mystery, joys, laughter, tears
and buckets of knowledge.
And for us able to attend, being there is such a kindness.
What can we do for the rest?
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