Sea of Words

Searching for Tethys

Her thoughts carried her like the sea carries a boat

Omnipresent yet unknown

The waves battled

the unspoken ocean of her thoughts.

Gushing bellows of swirling whirlpools

She felt the heavy breeze in her hair;

the salt pierced her face

So fragile were her ideas undiscovered

Confronted with Aura – the breeze became her muse

Deep in conversation

Waves broke out of their amorphous casts

They discussed that land of the past

The last forgotten ocean

Only the Earth had moved as in Gaia’s dream

The changing realm of the abyss

A mystery which remained with her

Looking for clues to uncover these secrets

On her raft she remained

Lost in the sea of words

By Siddhi Joshi

This poem draws on similarities between conversations and the breadth and depth of the sea. As a PhD student studying oceanography, I have been continuously inspired by nature and a large range of natural phenomenon in the sea- of Tethys- the Greek goddess of the sea and her mother Gaia- the goddess of the Earth. Drawing on ideas of scientific discovery, this poem explores the role of conversation in scientific dialogue and this relationship between thought, observation of nature and discovery. I was inspired to write it when reading the book “Vanished Ocean” by Dorrik Stow – a book about the Tethys Ocean and the insights of Greek mythology in the personification of nature and refers to the amorphous casts from Virginia Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse.”

It also draws on my own personal experiences of my journey as a PhD student studying oceanography especially while going on oceanographic expeditions and of subsequent conversations with my supervisor. Although the poem is relatively open-ended, in what the conversation is about- it could be about anything- parallels are drawn between the thought process of scientific discovery; human conversation; conversations with nature; even love…

In the memory of Seamus Heaney: A Human Rights poet and writer 

April 13, 1939 – August 30, 2013

from the Republic of Conscience

I

When I landed in the republic of conscience
it was so noiseless when the engines stopped
I could hear a curlew high above the runway.

At immigration, the clerk was an old man
who produced a wallet from his homespun coat
and showed me a photograph of my grandfather.

The woman in customs asked me to declare
the words of our traditional cures and charms
to heal dumbness and avert the evil eye.

No porters. No interpreter. No taxi.
You carried your own burden and very soon
your symptoms of creeping privilege disappeared.

II

Fog is a dreaded omen there but lightning
spells universal good and parents
hang swaddled infants in trees during thunderstorms.

Salt is their precious mineral. And seashells
are held to the ear during births and funerals.
The base of all inks and pigments is seawater.

Their sacred symbol is a stylised boat.
The sail is an ear, the mast a sloping pen,
the hull a mouth-shape, the keel an open eye.

At their inauguration, public leaders
must swear to uphold unwritten law and weep
to atone for their presumption to hold office-

and to affirm their faith that all life sprang
from salt in tears which the sky god wept
after he dreamt his solitude was endless.

III

I came back from that frugal republic
with my two arms the one length, the customs woman
having insisted my allowance was myself.

The old man rose and gazed into my face
and said that was official recognition
that I was now a dual citizen.

He therefore desired me when I got home
to consider myself a representative
and to speak on their behalf in my own tongue.

Their embassies, he said, were everywhere
but operated independently
and no ambassador would ever be relieved.

“From the Republic of Conscience,” from The Haw Lantern by Seamus Heaney. Copyright © 1987 by Seamus Heaney.

Seamus Heaney