Surviving in a Moment | "I want to give you a word, just take it, don't speak"

I would give you a word, but I can't, so I'm going to give you many until one stands out...

There I was, sitting in on the G'n'T session. Just sitting, listening and feeling. Three poets were before me; John Holton, Bronwyn Lovell and Bruce Oakman. Three poets who have a love for an art that is integral to their creative survival. This survival is the moment in which life is given to each of their poems (an unheard notion introduced to myself and the many others during the session).

Photography by Shane Carey

The poets each took turns and spoke of survival and the sense of urgency that it has. They agreed that this urgency can be found in the moment where poetry takes form and exists. This in my opinion is where poetry survives and endures. John used a phrase that said 'poetry is distilled in a moment'. With that moment comes the understanding that a poem can only survive for so long. Their advice was to use it, craft it to perfection and choose each word with purpose. This is when poems can ultimately, and hopefully endure.

That night I learned to appreciate the sense of satisfaction felt for the brevity of words. Particularly when Bronwyn took the time to share a performance that won her an award a few years back. She did so on cue, not knowing she had to and yet the words poured out of her. It was like they were a secret she had thought a million times before speaking them. It began with the line 'I want to give you a word' and after that performance I would have blindly taken anything she gave me.

Photography by Shane Carey

Finding the essence of a poem was also spoken of that night, Bruce said that good poetry is crafted by 'cutting out the faffy' and leaving nothing but truth. That is what Bronwyn did. The way she spoke was powerful; her words were accompanied with so much emotion, trust, and faith. We were all sitting there, devouring each word and feeling the intensity of the moment. We were all sitting there surviving in that moment. We were a group of people living on the edge, away from our physical selves. Then, when the poem ended, we felt something endure within us.

Photography by Shane Carey

For a second I thought I was alone in this, until I felt everyone at once. Collectively we sighed and in-sync we all stepped back away from the edge. What she gave each of us was not limited to a poem or verse, even though she spoke with such care and thought. Nor was it limited to an experience, even though it touched us like a long awaited embrace. 

Instead, what she gave us was a word, and we each took it, without speaking.

[For more photos check out Shane Carey's amazing work! http://thesensitiveshutterphotography.weebly.com/]