All aboard!

June 05, 2013 Last year, I was fortunate enough to become part of the legacy of Poetry International. I was six months pregnant and took on the invitation to bring the art of my poetry to Rotterdam, as an experience I would never have again. To become part of this family leaves a lasting impression. Standing there in an auditorium in which one is dwarfed (pregnant or not) at the opening of the festival, where one is introduced as a poet, gives one's work an urgency, meaning – a gravitas which is hard to come by. My sense of wonder grew with each day. Wonder at hearing the works of spectacular poets from countries I would never have been able to parse for myself. Wonder at how seriously the organisers take poetry and its presentation. Wonder at how language actually does not separate us, rather it can bring us closer together.

Here, poetry means something, and as a poet in the world-at-large you may not often feel that. You operate largely as a castaway marooned on a remote island; your words your solace, your existence, your everything. Then the Poetry International ship comes along, and you find it has picked up other castaways and poetry pirates and on board you find you are celebrated, understood and indeed even have a flag flown in your name. In a way, this marks the trials and tribulations you have had in your life, that brought you to your remote island in the first place. It marks what makes you, the poet, you. The crew of the Poetry International ship catch Babel fish* for you, allowing you to see behind languages and understand each others’ words.

For seven days and nights, all that matters is Poetry with a capital P. It is bliss. You may never want to set foot on dry land again. The Babel fish (From Douglas Adams's The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) is a fictitious animal that performs instant translations.