Just 22 Miles Of Water Poem by Michael Shepherd

‘To understand all
is to forgive all ‘ –
that’s one French saying
that doesn’t seem to have
crossed the few miles of
‘The English Channel’, or
the Straits of Dover or
‘The Sleeve’ or the
‘Passage of Calais’ or
however the French translates –
with the Normans; so

perhaps they left it behind
at the Conquest along with
Armagnac and crepes and
their blonde mistresses
and never went back for it

like I wonder if that blunt
English saying,
‘Those who can, do;
those who can’t, teach; and
those who can’t teach,
become critics…’
ever made it across La Manche
to that civilised nation where
critics, teachers, and the mind
are held in such respect; but

suppose we equate football
and poetry here:
football supporters know their
playing days are over, if
they ever happened anyway;
they aren’t equipped to teach
except their sons, for some
happy time; and so they
hold to their precious love of
the beautiful game
by criticising the team,
the manager, and especially
the ref. Shoot the ref. So

maybe it’s because
you, and you know who you are,
felt you couldn’t be
the great poet which you so wanted
to be, and found you
couldn’t teach, that
because you truly, deeply
love poetry and all
it stands for, and need
to preserve that love, you
criticise poetry so savagely here
in England, and
are hated for it;

strange isn’t it that
a few miles across the Channel
from aggressive England
you’d be feted, revered, honoured,
as staunch upholder in critical essays
of the ever-renewing greatness of
French literature…

I’ll settle for understanding all and
forgiving all