Calibrating Home by Helen Swain, 5 Island Press 2024, was launched by Gina Mercer on 24 November 2024 at the South Hobart Hall. 

First, I pay my respects to the Mouweneena and pakana people, the traditional and original custodians of this land which was never ceded. I acknowledge their continuing connection to, and custodianship of, this place where we gather today. I acknowledge the languages and cultures of the first peoples of Tasmania ‒ the knowledge contained in those languages, the wisdom held in those songs and cultures, of the many generations connecting to, and singing, this place ‒ this place where we meet, where we come together to attend to the music and knowledge in words.

Here is a book. It is Helen’s book. It is a very good book. When you get one – it will give you delight. And comfort. And gentle chortles. The occasional, necessary, jolt. And sighs of deep pleasure.

And this very good book will tilt your world – as you might tilt your glass of clear tea as you sit in the late afternoon sun – admiring the play of light and viscosity and shadow – as you sip both tea and poems… because having your world tilted by Helen’s hands is good. Her hands are steadying and precise and full of thought. Helen’s hands are knowing in all the best ways. They are enlivening, compassionate hands that hold that necessary, slippery “glow-worm” (‘Hospital Waiting Room’) on which we all depend – hope.

If I had to suggest which poets Helen reminds me of… mmmm… imagine if you took Emily Dickinson and Mary Oliver and combined the two…. that’s who. But here is a voice, Helen’s voice. It is all her own. It is good and distinctive and makes you want to listen. It is loving and knowing and gentle and irresistible. And that distinctive voice is something many poets spend decades seeking – and here – Helen has it. It is a voice the world very much needs right now. Relevant and compassionate. Accessible and profoundly – yet unfussily – philosophical.

As I sipped this evocative and delicious book I heard Emily’s voice rejoicing and two of her lines came echoing through:

hope is the thing with feathers

 – ‘poem 314’

 And               

Tell all the truth but tell it slant

 – ‘poem 1263’

Helen’s book is filled with vital moments of truth. With images and stories that transform us into creatures with feathers – who can continue. Our sense of hope is sustained by the openness she enacts. By the connecting she articulates and fosters.

Helen writes in the title poem, ‘Calibrating Home’–

gulls cry questions              

and so she hands us the necessity to listen to the gulls. As we must listen to the refugee we meet at the bus-stop (see ‘Rice’). As we need to know and honour the stories of our neighbours and ancestors:

Kin

Swimming in between the rocks,
I saw a leafy sea-dragon

carrying his hundred bright pink eggs
and today I saw a waving she-oak

fathering countless golden microspores.
Once I saw my own father standing on the cliff edge

singing to the strange land
where he was born.

It was my grandmother
he was calling.

She takes you there, doesn’t she? Linking small disparate moments on a delicate concept. Elegant and strong as a spider’s web. So apparently simple, yet – and yet – how it ripples and resonates.

Tea

Sometimes all we want
is to drink tea and chat
preferably at your place
or maybe mine
say that we saw Beth
who seems to be doing fine
you tell me about yours
I tell you about mine
Frankie had the dog put down
Maisie cried for a week
would you like some beans
we go outside
admire the petunia petals
dark velvet like inside
the ears of a spaniel
I’d better be getting back
knowing getting back
is better now
we’ve had that tea.

The sequencing in this collection is like a well-laid afternoon tea table – so much skill and consideration – all combining to make this book an accomplished and satisfying whole.

Teacups

Grandmother’s teacups
survived the war.

Off to work early, she leaves always
something on the windowsill.

This morning it’s an apple.
Yesterday she gave me three walnuts.

Sometimes a little lemon cake.
Once silver paper

and inside, butterfly wings
undamaged. Paralucia aurifer

four golden triangles
brought in from the great world.

On the windowsill,
her heart.

The consummate skill in these poems. The language so impeccable. So simple. And I don’t need to tell you what these poems are about because you know. Remember school teachers asking ‘What’s this poem about?’? No need to ask how these two poems make you feel – because you’re knowing that in your bodies, your memories, your hearts, yes? There – they ripple and resonate.

In ‘Teacups’ Helen gives us the essence, the truth of a grandmother. Remember how ‘she leaves always / something on the windowsill’? In a world where damage threatens, where survival isn’t guaranteed, there’s that word ‘always’ at the end of the line. So ripplingly powerful. Helen’s carefully selected words create a whole world. Making us know this enduring and sustaining relationship. In just 56 words. Wow!

I spoke earlier about the remarkable sequencing within this book. So between ‘Tea’ and ‘Teacups’ sits another poem. This one is only 29 words.

Cluster

A cluster of purple grapes.
Under the palms, a cluster of dates resting,
or clustered popcorn sweet with caramel.
Children cluster moments before the bell.
Cluster bombs disperse them.

Sitting between the comfort of having a cuppa with a friend and celebrating a grandmother’s sustaining heart – is this one. It is carefully and caringly crafted. Begins with images of comfort and respite – bunches of abundant grapes, plump dates in an oasis… we think, perhaps, that Helen is simply going for a meander through the meanings of a word… as poets do… until – that last line. Oof. And isn’t that exactly how the world hits us? We know the constant necessity to live our ordinary days whilst also knowing – and somehow bearing – the horrifying things that are happening.

One of the remarkable achievements of this book is its capacity to gently celebrate the first of these necessities. Helen gifts us a kindness of balm. Jacinda Ardern (NZ Prime Minister for a while) once said that every policy that came to her government must answer the question: Is this kind? And that same vital philosophy is at the heart of this book. That is it’s radical and incredibly vital philosophy. Just exactly what the world needs right now. A kindness of balm. A balm of kindness.

At the same time, through simple, clear-eyed language, this book makes us know the necessity for resisting complacency. These poems are dextrous. Supple. Complex while appearing simple. A high-wire balancing act which Helen achieves with grace, without even breaking a sweat.

The art of being concise is, of course, the essence of poetry. One of its core defining qualities. And Helen is extremely good at this. As in this poem, Cluster, where she knocks our socks off in just 29 words. She really understands the necessity of brevity. But her strong and gentle hands are adept at crafting longer poems too. There are many I want to read but…. I’ve chosen just one:

Suzi and the spider

It is the pose of the child
not a flopped child
with resting bones
but the yoga pose.

It is an old woman doing this
and she is not thin or supple
or a yogi,
but she is on the floor
on elbows and squashed knees,
chin almost touching the boards,
haunches risen like bread,
talking to a spider.

It is a two-way conversation.

The spider, which is very small,
stops and looks at her.

He is smiling, the woman says.
she is interested in science
but rejoices in anthropomorphising,
she knows a greeting when she sees one.

She slowly offers her hand.
Very quietly the spider lifts a leg.

The woman turns her her hand
palm up.
The spider lifts another leg,
both legs quiver.
The woman straightens her fingers slightly.

Here comes the spider,
all legs now, rushing under her hand;
it turns upside down,
attaches to the hairs
on the back of her hand.

Would you like to come out with me?
the woman asks,
and the spider says yes,
so they rise,
the little one standing still
like an early morning commuter,
and they go to the door.

The woman chooses a petal,
the spider agrees,
and they part.

 Good, eh? A narrative poem. A poem in two voices. A loving portrait. Not a staid, stiff portrait. This one is dynamic, singing with loving humour and appreciation. Did I mention – there’s a passel of appreciating going on this book? The act of appreciating – it’s the very palm of Helen’s hands. Another foundation of her philosophy.

One of my other favourites among the longer poems is – ‘Leaning on the Fence Listening to my Neighbour in the Garden’.

I will quote the last section. Oh, and did I mention how brilliant Helen’s endings are? So good.

This poem is a conversation between Helen and a neighbour. They are preparing to plant broad beans. Here’s how the poem ends:

and I don’t know what to think
but I do think…
and somehow
I still know deeply
about the goodness of people

yes, she says, I don’t deny that

and together we put the gardening tools in the shed,
protection against the weather or whatever is coming.

 So, here is a book. It’s Helen’s book. It’s a very good book. Filled with – and ‘about the goodness of people’. You, all of you – you are a ‘goodness of people’. Gift yourself this very good book. Gift one to any of your people who love goodness. Who need this brilliant balance of balm and grim. Oh, for goodness’ sake – buy a heap. It’ll make Helen happy. It’ll make Bronwyn, the indefatigable and ever-helpful bookseller, happy. And Helen’s perspicacious publisher, 5 Islands Press. And Suzi – why, even the wee spider will be happy.

So here goes, here, I launch this very good book. Helen’s book. Here – it flies into your delighted arms and hearts. Because we know deeply about the goodness of people. That goodness, and this very good book of Helen’s poetry, are our best protection against the weather or whatever is coming.

 – Gina Mercer

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Gina Mercer revels in words, in being – a writer, teacher, editor, and book doula. She was Editor of Island Magazine from 2006-2010. She‘s taught creative writing in universities and communities for over 30 years. She’s published twelve books, mostly poetry. Her latest collection is an activist meditation on the element of Water, Watermark (Ginninderra Press, 2022).

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Calibrating Home by Helen Swain is available from https://www.5islandspress.com/product-page/calibrating-home-by-helen-swain