FROM THE MAYOR’S OFFICE

Jude Roche
Poet Laureate 2016-2017

 

Words seem lost as I try to write about my friend and Village Poet Laureate, Jude Roche.  How can I find words to describe someone who was so talented with language?  Jude was a gifted poet.  She shared that gift with kindness, love and a wry sense of irony and humor.

Jude passed away surrounded by family at her sweet house on Aske Street, the house with the purple door.  I was fortunate to have visited Jude a few weeks when I’d heard she was in hospice care.  It was an impromptu visit.  I had been working in my garden earlier and cut for her a big bunch of narcissus.  It was a beautiful April day.  I knocked at her door, but there was no answer.  I was about to leave my gift at her doorstep when suddenly she came around the corner in a wheelchair maneuvered by her daughter and son-in-law.  What a surprise!  I gave her the bouquet and although her sight was failing the heady fragrance was a simple reminder of spring.

Jude was 94 when she passed.  I was surprised and never knew her age.  She seemed so young, thoughtful and smart in a way that defied a calendar of days.  Maybe that was the reason she was such a good writer and fine poet and friend.

When I received the copy of the last book of poems she wrote, Soliloquy, she mentioned me in the front piece and I was surprised and honored.  The book was done during her appointment as Poet Laureate, in it is a poem titled, “Warwick, NY”:

“There is something spiritual about
the unburdened simplicity of the rural life
I imagine with its
modest dreams and gentle camaraderie,
the crisp chill of an autumn morning,
the bonding of man and horse and earth”

I keep the book on my desk with the marker she left on the page of this poem.

I had planned to visit Jude again and knew this time I would bring her some purple lilacs and even though with failing sight I knew she could see the color purple in her mind and the scent would bring her joy.

I wasn’t able to make that second visit, but I was grateful for the one visit and our walk around her neighborhood on a beautiful spring day chatting and laughing.

So I say dear Jude, dear laureate you brought a gift and we are grateful that you were so generous, strong, loving and involved.  I look at the purple lilac bush from my window and I sense you are with us.  There are new poems in the air, in the water, the grass and trees, in the breaking daylight and the dusk.  We will listen closely to the whisper and know that you are here.