Dear Editor,

Last August was the last time I saw her. I went to drop off some old photographs of Martin I had found in my files. That warm, generous smile was very present as I left the photos.

Martin and Phyllis Carter as the Stabroek News report states, were together for over fifty years.

In the 1980s and nineties I would often walk past the famous Lamaha home and stop in occasionally to chat.  I recall two distinct images. One, was the approach to the gate, where any who came would notice Martin sitting in the shuttered verandah, peering through the open space, chair slightly receded, face only partially visible, as if he was hiding from the dreadness of the city he often pursued in his poetry.  And then there was Phyllis Carter, her trademark smile and kindness in full bloom. And I would wonder, with that positive radiation, how much of the poetry was she responsible for as both partner and influence?

My deepest sympathy and solidarity to Michelle, Sonja, Keith, Howard and the entire Carter family.

Without deliberate choice, and without any pretence at understanding its inner secrets, I offer one of Martin Carter’s own poems (Whence Come They?) in tribute to Phyllis.

Whence come they, these urgent visitants

Who do not warn of their coming?

How long has each been waiting

outside this door, this house, this room

silent and invisible, always waiting,

always there, impatient and enduring

the deaf ear, blind eye, idle hand

and distracted heart? I hardly know

how to say thanks. But I am grateful

to be so glad they never went away.

Yours faithfully,
Nigel Westmaas