Notes by Nana T. Baffour-Awuah

I find that every time I look up at the sky, I find some revelation, or land on a curious thought, or pluck a line of poetry. Skywatching (read here), came to me in one such moment. It opens with “[Look up]” because that is both a prompt and an interjection. It is also embedded with a double-entendre: inviting the reader to literally look up at the sky; but also asking them to look up the meaning of “skywatching” (which is not recognized by Microsoft Word).

 

“You may catch the sky…with the clouds” emphasizes the quiet romance of the activity, almost like eavesdropping on a lovers’ conversation or spying on an intimate dance. The metaphor of “bend[ing] time” is intentional here, because one can get so lost in skywatching that it is impossible to tell whether time has sped up, slowed down, or stopped—although the waltz above may offer suggestions.

 

Visitation (read here) is a reflection on my creative process. It often starts with a line or a word that is so present and persistent in my mind that makes “the spirit untame”. It, in essence, becomes a process of a birthing, nurturing, growing, and opening myself up to understand and channel the poem’s “blissful havoc”. The overarching symbolism employed here is that of a sort of possession by something divine—a nod to the concepts of muses and genius. But there is also a lot of imagery around nature, light and bodily senses. All of these are part of my ecosystem of creation, somewhat captured in the line “A prayer, invisible on my lips and my fingers”.

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I started writing The First Sigh(t) of Spring while watching nature and reflecting on how most
of us don’t see spring coming until it’s here. If you are mindful enough though, there are gentle
signs: the “quiet and coy” softening of the weather, the little blooms “barely revealing”
themselves. This poem is a snapshot on those moments between the quieter start of spring and the “unmistakable and triumphant” arrival. The title opens the poem by pointing to the idea of spring sighing, as though spring itself is ready to displace winter—and then the viewer speaks about this sighting in the body of the poem; it is a conversation between spring and the viewer, albeit quite wordless on the part of spring. Spring is personified as female, as a nod to Persephone and Gaia because those are classic symbols of verdancy, but also because of a
personal reverence for the divine feminine.

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