© irene waters 2016
I find I cannot narrow
© irene waters 2016
this narrow challenge to one
© irene waters 2016
Does this mean
© irene waters 2016
that I cannot be narrow to a point
© irene waters 2016
or that I see narrow
© irene waters 2016
as I look through
© irene waters 2016
look at
© irene waters 2016
and keep to the straight and narrow.
© irene waters 2016
Narrow vision
© irene waters 2016
is not narrow-mindedness
© irene waters 2016
catching glimpses of narrow spaces
© irene waters 2016
© irene waters 2016
and lives
© irene waters 2016
The very narrowness I find
© irene waters 2016
opens up the mind, supporting creativity
© irene waters 2016
of what lies past that narrow confine.
In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge
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About Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
I began my working career as a reluctant potato peeler whilst waiting to commence my training as a student nurse. On completion I worked mainly in intensive care/coronary care; finishing my hospital career as clinical nurse educator in intensive care. A life changing period as a resort owner/manager on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu was followed by recovery time as a farmer at Bucca Wauka. Having discovered I was no farmer and vowing never again to own an animal bigger than myself I took on the Barrington General Store. Here we also ran a five star restaurant. Working the shop of a day 7am - 6pm followed by the restaurant until late was surprisingly more stressful than Tanna. On the sale we decided to retire and renovate our house with the help of a builder friend. Now believing we knew everything about building we set to constructing our own house. Just finished a coal mine decided to set up in our backyard. Definitely time to retire we moved to Queensland. I had been writing a manuscript for some time. In the desire to complete this I enrolled in a post grad certificate in creative Industries which I completed 2013. I followed this by doing a Master of Arts by research graduating in 2017. Now I live to write and write to live.
Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist) 
Your poem and your vision – outstanding.
I can’t believe you got yourself into that tight little space.
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I have to admit I was so claustrophobic I started at the other end and had intended walking (crawling) the entire tunnel eventually coming out at this point. I couldn’t do it and cheated by backing in to make it look as though I’d done it. At least I tried whereas many did not. The Vietnam war must have been so scary with people popping up out of these tunnels and disappearing into them.
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Now I know what I’m looking at – wow – my husband is a Vietnam vet. He’s told me a lot of the horrors. He used to talk about a little Vietnamese boy he’s befriended. When I asked if he’d ever tried to get in touch with the boy (after hubby had left VN) he said the boy was probably dead. There was such desolation in his voice – I’ve never forgotten how sad he sounded, like he was grieving.
Though there are sometimes “good results” from war, war is always terrible.
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I’m so sad for your husband. I know it must have been traumatic and I can believe that even years after those that experienced it would be grieving. That must have been tough for both of you.
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