The Poetry of

Susan Maditz

Forward by Earl Hairston

If Ernest Hemingway and Frida Kahlo had a baby, her name would be Susan. What an opening line for our introduction to this issues’s featured poet, Susan Maditz. I say that with total respect and admiration for Hemmingway, Kahlo and Susan.

Susan’s writing style reminds me of Hemmingway’s way with words. His style of writing was called the iceberg theory. It is a minimalistic style, focusing on surface elements without explicitly discussing underlying themes. Susan allows the deeper meaning of her poetry to shine through on its own. Bursts of light that bring revelation and “ah ha” moments.

Susan is reminiscent of Frida Kahlo in the fact that she is passionate about life and the things that matter to her. That passion includes, but is not limited to: her work as an RN Wound Care Specialist, her family, physical fitness, art, literature, nature, hiking, humanity, and all things beautiful. Did I mention that she was passionate?

I first met Susan several years ago when we both worked on the same ward at the Martinsburg VA Center Hospital. She as an RN and me as a housekeeper. An unlikely friendship from the start. Sometimes we would be working together in the same rooms which allowed us to talk about things that we were involved in or liked.

Literature was one of the things that we talked about. I told Susan that I was a writer but had not written anything in a while. She said, “Writers write. You should write.” I accepted her challenge and began to write. I told her I wanted to do performance poetry. She said, “Do it.” Her encouragement led me to Busboys and Poets, The 14th and 15th Annual Washington D.C. Poetry Festivals Honoring Gil-Scott Herron and many other venues. From our first meeting until now so much has been accomplished, from writing to videos, recording an album performing, acting and many more creative adventures. I would not be where I am now if it had not been for her showing interest in me as a human being and an artist.

Along the way Susan would occasionally share her own poetry and prose. The first time I read one of her pieces it blew my mind. I had no idea that she could write like that. I belonged to a poetry group and would always ask her to share her work there. She would politely decline saying “I am a private person Earl, and I write for me.” I was and am honored that she would share her work with me.

When I asked if she would be one of the featured poets for our poetry section in The Spectacle she was reluctant. To be honest she first said, “No.” I asked her to think about it. She thought about it and did say “Yes” eventually, but I must add this caveat. She was concerned that maybe I should have someone speaking towards the BLK movement or maybe have someone giving voice to the pandemic. Her concern was that I would be seen as avoiding or not acknowledging these important issues. Especially since I am a black man.

I responded that me being editor of the poetry section was a powerful statement in itself. Thank you to Todd Cotgreave for giving me this opportunity. I said that our (mine and Susan’s) relationship as friends from different races, genders and socio-economic statuses would give positive pause for thought during these times of social and national divide.

I reassured her that I did have black poets, male and female, in mind. That I did have white male poets in mind. That I wanted to introduce poets from every segment of society, but for this issue I wanted to feature her. A voice filled with love for nature, her husband (Jude), family, nursing and all things beautiful.

Susan has a thing for trees. Her love for them is evident in the pieces that she is sharing in this issue. I am so proud of her and honored that I am the one to introduce her work to the public. Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I introduce to you Ms. Susan Maditz.

Artist’s Statement

I am no poet, but I am a lover of the outdoors and of words. Trees and books are perfect mediums of these loves. Some recent books about trees that have been my darlings are:

- The Overstory by R. Powers

- Sapiens by Y. Harari

- The Hidden Lives of Trees by P. Wohlleben

If you read any of these books, or the words in this article and it causes you to look at a tree one minute longer or hear a tree whisper an answer to a question, then the world and your own life are better.

The Trees Bend Over the River in Quiet Prayer

The trees bend over the river in quiet prayer,

in their reflection I see us there.

Rippled sky, clouds tiptoeing by, the

hawk soaring high, down to the muddy bottom,

and there am I, there are you.

Looking back at all of us.

1) The Trees Bend Over the River in Quiet Prayer 

The trees bend over the river in quiet prayer

In their reflection I see us there

Rippled sky, clouds tiptoeing by, the

hawk soaring high, down to the muddy

bottom,

And there am I, there are you.

Looking back at all of us.

2) The Sycamore

I love how the Sycamore branches

compete with the clouds to whiten the

sky.

And as if that is not enough for the

sycamore,

Long knobby roots reach in to syphon

the water nearby.

Always standing apart, proud and

smooth.

Capable of both blending in and shining out.

Greedy trees, the sycamores,

Taller, older, more majestic than the rest.

The gifts are theirs to take.

Why is it they take more than the other

trees?

Is it a right for the most beautiful?  The

strongest?

Nature fosters this domination,

Or so it seems to this conditioned eye.

There is more, much more, to see.

The clouds know as they pass by,

Whitening the sky.

3) HOW TO HUG A TREE

Firstly, press in so close that her ridges

and furrows are the mirror ridges and

furrows of your cheek.

Then allow your heartbeat to match in

 time to hers

Draw the earthy scent of her into your

breathing until it becomes

nectar running through your veins.

Listen as she whispers secrets to you

that only the ancients know

4) Old Tree Have Wrinkles

Old trees have wrinkles

Gnarls and knots,

Deep furrows where secrets lie.

Bent and stooped yet strong.

Ancient stories, slow and steady

breathing

They guard the Earth.

Young trees move aside for old trees

Old trees demand it as their due

For living long, standing true.

Giving way, but never gone,

Vessels of life on the forest floor.

Old trees have wrinkles.