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Something old, something new | Elizabeth Trew
2 days ago
For as long as poems and songs have been recorded, poets have used a multitude of strategies to help us see the world more clearly and experience it more fully.
One of these strategies is to describe something from the distant past and to contrast it with the way we live now. Such a poem might ask: are things improving, or are they getting worse?
Elizabeth Trew is a poet and former librarian who has mastered the art of such juxtapositions. Her second collection, Star Salted Place (Modjaji, 2026), includes several quietly revelatory poems that encourage us to see our current challenges more clearly by reminding us of past events and ways of seeing. This month, she shared one of these, the title poem from her collection, with The AVBOB Poetry Project.
Read the poem she shared and experience the wonder she feels in the presence of a place that is both ancient and excitingly new.
In a footnote, Trew explains that the crater’s name means “place of salt” in Setswana, and that it refers to a saline lake made by a fallen meteorite about 220 000 years ago. She adds, “Tswana and Sotho peoples harvested salt there between 1200 and 1800 … There is now a visitor’s centre with an abundance of trees planted around the lake.”
To begin with, the crash of the meteorite is described as a disastrous event. The “fire, brimstone and dust” leave little doubt about this. We would expect such a crater of salt to be barren of any vegetation. But by describing the site as a “cradle of ash”, Trew is preparing us for an altogether different outcome. In fact, the salt has created the possibility for very specific indigenous plants to grow. There is even something particularly vital and alive about the candle-bush that flares around this lake.
Then the focus shifts to the present, and we are surprised to encounter a primary school teacher humming her way through the trees with her class. The children have been asked to collect seeds from the plants that grow around the site before returning to her. Trew lingers over the names of these plants, allowing us to wonder about their properties. The poem ends on a note of promise: a new story beginning, children rustling seeds before scattering them, young people being taught how to look after the earth.
Trew could easily have written a poem that scolds us all for not taking better care of the natural world. Instead, she has done something unusual and quietly moving. She has allowed us to feel that we are all in the visitor’s centre, envisioning our best responses to unfolding crises with uncertain outcomes.
In the next few days, write a poem about an important historic event or a natural feature in your environment. Explore how it affects people’s lives in unexpected ways today.
The 10th annual AVBOB Poetry Competition is open for submissions until 30 November 2026. Visit www.avbob.co.za to view the competition rules and register.
One of these strategies is to describe something from the distant past and to contrast it with the way we live now. Such a poem might ask: are things improving, or are they getting worse?
Elizabeth Trew is a poet and former librarian who has mastered the art of such juxtapositions. Her second collection, Star Salted Place (Modjaji, 2026), includes several quietly revelatory poems that encourage us to see our current challenges more clearly by reminding us of past events and ways of seeing. This month, she shared one of these, the title poem from her collection, with The AVBOB Poetry Project.
Read the poem she shared and experience the wonder she feels in the presence of a place that is both ancient and excitingly new.
STAR SALTED PLACE
Tswaing meteorite crater
A rock from heaven crashed to earth,
the earth spat fire, brimstone and dust
made a cradle of ash, a crater of salt.
Today the cradle flares candle-bush
around a salted lake.
A teacher hums through the trees
trailing her grade four primary class.
Chattering milk teeth in the heat
the children collect seeds,
to drop into her calabash
sweet marula, sickle bush,
red ivory, poisonous tamboti –
fat purses and pods,
winged helicopter and parachute seeds.
Under leaf shadow
the day’s story begins.
By the salt water clock
they empty the bowl
rustling their seeds.
Tswaing meteorite crater
A rock from heaven crashed to earth,
the earth spat fire, brimstone and dust
made a cradle of ash, a crater of salt.
Today the cradle flares candle-bush
around a salted lake.
A teacher hums through the trees
trailing her grade four primary class.
Chattering milk teeth in the heat
the children collect seeds,
to drop into her calabash
sweet marula, sickle bush,
red ivory, poisonous tamboti –
fat purses and pods,
winged helicopter and parachute seeds.
Under leaf shadow
the day’s story begins.
By the salt water clock
they empty the bowl
rustling their seeds.
In a footnote, Trew explains that the crater’s name means “place of salt” in Setswana, and that it refers to a saline lake made by a fallen meteorite about 220 000 years ago. She adds, “Tswana and Sotho peoples harvested salt there between 1200 and 1800 … There is now a visitor’s centre with an abundance of trees planted around the lake.”
To begin with, the crash of the meteorite is described as a disastrous event. The “fire, brimstone and dust” leave little doubt about this. We would expect such a crater of salt to be barren of any vegetation. But by describing the site as a “cradle of ash”, Trew is preparing us for an altogether different outcome. In fact, the salt has created the possibility for very specific indigenous plants to grow. There is even something particularly vital and alive about the candle-bush that flares around this lake.
Then the focus shifts to the present, and we are surprised to encounter a primary school teacher humming her way through the trees with her class. The children have been asked to collect seeds from the plants that grow around the site before returning to her. Trew lingers over the names of these plants, allowing us to wonder about their properties. The poem ends on a note of promise: a new story beginning, children rustling seeds before scattering them, young people being taught how to look after the earth.
Trew could easily have written a poem that scolds us all for not taking better care of the natural world. Instead, she has done something unusual and quietly moving. She has allowed us to feel that we are all in the visitor’s centre, envisioning our best responses to unfolding crises with uncertain outcomes.
In the next few days, write a poem about an important historic event or a natural feature in your environment. Explore how it affects people’s lives in unexpected ways today.
The 10th annual AVBOB Poetry Competition is open for submissions until 30 November 2026. Visit www.avbob.co.za to view the competition rules and register.
