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Amazed
by Gordon Coombes

Amazed by monks meditating
in Nepal in the Himalayas
beneath the shadow of mount Fuji
in the shadow of Cape Smokey
in the mountains of Cape Breton
hanging out over the Atlantic Ocean
as the fog rolls in
as the chilling winds of winter
blow steadily for weeks on end
& the snow drifts curve like a wave about to crash
pushing up against the walls of the Monastary -


Amazed by a thousand giant silver grey steel windmills
whirring & humming away in the strong steady winds -

Amazed by rocket-ships loaded with tourists
shaking the ground as they bolt into the sky
to hangout in space for an hour or two
then having sprouted wings to glide back to earth
another distraction for the well to do -

Amazed by a thousand Gods watching over us
applauding our little victories
weeping at our failures
sending us signs in the shape of rainbows
letting the moon at (noon ) mid-day swallow the sun -
sending crows & ravines
loons & swans
their squakings we mistranslate
our minds out of sync
lost in our own internal babble
& in the noise of all our gadgets & gizmos
all clunking away day & night
as if they could save us -

Amazed by an empty china blue sky
hanging above us -

Amazed by a thousand revolutionaries
Amazed by a thousand artists
pushing the limits
breaking all the old rules
wanting to say everything all at once
images broken shattered jumbled
crowded onto a canvass
writing verses mangled by reality
twisted by the imagination
corrupted by adoration
words washed ashore ship-wrecked poems
picked apart by gulls & scuttling crabs -

Amazed by a thousand musicians
a genius in every family
waiting to be discovered -

Amazed by the rise & fall of Empires
Amazed by the rise & fall of the sun
pulled by a fierce charioteer
into the depths of the night -

a thousand tour buses filled
with blue haired ladies
from Alabama & North Carolina
crawling through the city streets
while a tour guide in a Scottish kilt
tells of an explosion
which ripped the city apart
beneath a mushroom cloud
see the big bells on the hill
over-looking the city
to commemorate the occassion
& of the convoys of a thousand ships
waiting in the harbour
filled with ten thousand soldiers
waiting for the fog to roll in
to cover their exits
as they head across the north Atlantic
to fight in another war to end all wars
driving through the streets noting
the trees that once seemed like tunnels
now so many gone
ripped out by the roots by Hurricane Juan -


a thousand tour buses rumbling
along the highway
passing a thousand seaside villages
stopping to watch the waves break
against the granite rocks
crowds of tourists roaming the streets
of quaint fishing villages
passing the hundred foot statue of Gloosecap
the great spirit watching over us
climbing up to Cape Smokey
dizzily zig-zaging switch backing over a dozen mountains
as if going in circles
passing a thousand scarecrows
family 's of scare crows picnicking by the side of the road
scarecrow children playing on the swings
or some dancing in a circle to celebrate the harvest
others attending a scarecrow wedding
all these empty hollow actions & traditions
which continue as if this too was life-

dizzily winding their way
over mountains over-looking the sea

skirting the Bras D'Or Lakes
stopping to check out hundred abandoned light houses
that dot the Atlantic coast-

taking in a tour of an eighteenth century fortress
where French soldiers lived in misery
never able to escape the cold Atlantic winds
chilled to the bone fearing they would never be warm again
traveling through the coal fields now abandoned
where once coal was king
and the Steel Plant belched out it's bright orange plume
of sulphorous smoke lighting up the sky at night
now another quaint museum detailing
the struggles of mine(rs) & steel workers
their century of fighting for some dignity
in the end abandoned left by the greedy owners
who sought cheaper labour elsewhere -

to the evangeline trail
along the once gold rich Hills
to Port Royal
passing through a valley
for most of a day
stopping at Cape Blomidon
overlooking the plaid valley
for a photo -op -

passing a thousand scarecrows dressed like us
pretending to be alive-

whizzing passed a thousand silos red barns & farmhouses-

a thousand armed Christians
hiding behind their curtained windows
waiting for the end of days -

a thousand billboards
advertising for Jesus Incorporated
Are you born again they warn
your death maybe around the next bend-