Happy Thursday! I know, I’m days late. I’ve actually rewritten that opening three times with three different days. This one is sticking. 

Well, 800+ poems have been reduced to a bit over the 100 that will comprise Kakalak 2025. Yes, it’s as daunting as it sounds, especially considering all the absolutely wonderful poems that were submitted. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts about the anthology, we three co-editors submit our individual scores, the publisher does her magic averaging and totaling them, then we three co-editors finally get together for the first time and whittle down the selections. That happened this past Saturday.

We started around 10:30 am and ended at 7:00 pm.

Up to that point, we’d not discussed the poems with each other, compared notes or scores. We didn’t know who submitted the poems. Last Thursday we received the tallied spreadsheet and it felt like ‘The Great Reveal’ with scores, rankings, and finally the names of the poets being seen. We’re always excited to get together and finally hear each other’s comments on individual poems. That’s only part of the reason the session is a marathon session–we discuss a lot. We also learn a lot from each other and from the poems. I can’t imagine making these choices single-handedly.

Some may wonder what’s there to discuss if all the poems are scored and ranked. While it’s true the winners always rise to the top and there’s little to figure out there, much of the discussion and challenge centers on those poets who submitted multiple poems … and the poems received the same score. We can only include one poem per person, so which do we choose? This situation happens more often than one may think. That’s a testament to the quality of poets and poems that make up Kakalak.

During these discussions we have to ‘kill our darlings’ – those poems we reeeeaaallly were pulling for but for various reasons we go with another one from that same poet. We get the fun of being surprised by a poet we’re familiar with, whose poem is a topic or style that’s new for them. We love putting that work out there. It’s part of what makes being a co-editor so enjoyable. I can’t wait to announce the arrival of Kakalak 2025!

Also being reduced at the moment is the beauty of parts of the Spanish countryside due to wildfires. I just checked and it’s estimated 542,789 acres have burned. As most of you know, just over a year ago Hubby and I made our pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago, from Pamplona to Santiago. The wildfires are along a large stretch of where we walked in Western Spain, in fact a 30-mile stretch of the Camino is blocked. I’m still on Camino sites and the pictures of the flames and smoke are scary. Like in California, much of this is mountain area, hillside vegetation, and rocks, so after the devastation of losing trees and underbrush, there’s the real fear and danger of mud and rock slides when the rains eventually come.

The stories of Pilgrims struggling with breathing in heavy smoke (the walk itself can be difficult even without the smoke!) and having to find rides instead of walking are heart-wrenching. While it’s obviously the prudent thing to do, there’s the normal and natural disappointment of having to adjust when one has spent months–probably years–preparing physically, emotionally, and spiritually for this walk. To have it altered in such a big way can be jolting. In some places public transportation is stopped, so pilgrims aren’t moving at all.

Yet, it also speaks to what the whole Camino experience is–being open to whatever happens and trusting. Hostel workers are proving how hospitable they are by finding beds and food for unexpected pilgrims, and coordinating rides when they can. The pilgrims continue to find joy, support, and companionship in each other.

One of the areas hit is Ponferrada, the city we stopped in after our descent from the Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross. I remember that day’s walk so well, because I’d dreaded it so much! It’s one of the steepest descents on the Camino Frances and I’d literally worried myself sick anticipating it. While the path down wasn’t easy, it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated, and part of that relief came from some of the most breathtaking vista views. Even the underbrush was beautiful with plants of different spring colors, and so high and thick, I had to push my way through in spots. It’s hard to imagine all of that gone. Here are just a handful of pics from that day’s walk. Of what it once looked like. Hubby is about 5’11’ and in some of the photos the vegetation is at his shoulders or higher.

One of the lessons all Pilgrims learn is that the walk is different for everyone. I remember the serenity, the pure air, the sounds of various birds living in it; of feeling a lightness in my heart in the presence of God and a Creator spirit along that day’s walk. I wonder how the wildfires’ effect on the landscape is also changing the experience for those walking now. How walking amid the charred remains of trees and on a path thick with ash might change their sense of wonder and awe.

Please remember those walking, and those working to keep the fires contained and eventually out. And for all the people along the way who make the journey possible.

Circling back to poetry and ending on a positive note–I ‘finished’ A Ghazal for My Father!  Still needs tweaks but essentially, it’s done. It’s been a full week infused with poetry, ending Tuesday night at a reading by some of my favorite Charlotte poets and people–Irene Blair Honeycutt, Mary Alice Dixon, and Martin Settle. I hope the rest of your week and the weekend are infused with the things that make your heart happy. See you on Monday!