In spite of everything we managed a holiday. Family in a van. Changeable weather. Changeable moods. Same sky. I took paper and pencil and wrote a poem a day, by way of capturing them as they passed by. If you wish sit back, read, listen and take a trip with me, see where it takes your mind and memories, day by day, until we return safely home. Day One The lake whipped up An artificial blue making home for human, boat and swan. Thick mud under foot, best to stay afloat. Shrieks of joy, banter with strangers, roaming dogs, feral children. The threat of rain which never comes Time fades, it is not significant here. Day Two The wind blew through today bringing a perpetual freshness, a transience to the day. Wind bringing up miniature showers of spray from under the pedlo Wind cooling the warmth Of the locked van. Wind tousling my unbrushed hair, caressing my unmade up face. Wind blowing freely, as it ever does. Changing all the spaces it is in, if only for a few moments. Blowing away what was there, drawing along something new. Day Three A day of changing light grey light, green light, as cast through the trees. Fire light, bright flame, glowing ember. Fairy light, on soft bed, as eyelids close, gathering memories known only by our dreams and the watchful trees. Day Four The ease with which a day passes when in the company of friends. The time slipping seamlessly into one long glorious day. There is only lightness here, and softness, and joy. Everything, just for a moment, in this place, is exactly as it should be. Day Five A confusing day A ‘why me?’ day Calculating the injustices in my head. Hearing and seeing the honestness of life It’s wounds and scars cannot be hidden or ignored for long We, the walking wounded carry ourselves where ever we go, stumbling forward into our next step.
Day Six The rain fell through the light onto the body of brown canal water in such a way that it appeared as fireflies skitting, Or as bright dots behind the eyes in a head rush, or as disco lasers dancing across a sticky pub floor. A moment of absurd beauty, Appearing where it does not belong, but it turns up anyway. A glimpse of the miraculous on an otherwise less than ordinary day.
Day Seven Take me to the river Where the water flows Cool and deep Each glimpse of a Passing body of water Washes over my soul Rinsing away The dirt stuck there Mile by mile River by river I am healed.
Day Eight The feral hunter gatherer’s brown paper bag is brimming with rocks, like dinosaur eggs Lichen from the fairy woods, sticks whose value is known only to their owner endowed with attributes of the imagination. These collected treasures were joined today by gifts from the sea. Sandy enormous shells, a crab claw Memories of a jelly fish graveyard washed up on shore Their bouncy bodies acting as a trampoline for broken starfish The tales of a small girl, discoveries of five year old eyes wonders of a growing heart. Clutched by sticky fingers in a brown paper bag.
Day Nine The sand here tells of ships stones sailors shells Some now so fine they are barely there. Unless it is in your eye where it becomes a football. Sand, the only terrain which is always a canvas. An artists dream to rewrite tales from the fragments of untold stories Ground down into particles layer upon layer forming a golden canvas for creations anew.
Day Ten Nothing but air above Nothing but water below The membrane between The two is paper thin. For floating on, for cutting through arm over arm Face down is another world which belongs to the creatures of the deep. Face up, to breath and view the canopy above, another world unobtainable. You will find me here on this glassy surface where one element meets another. Impenetrable to both, neither home to me. Yet my presence forges a connection between them, And, even so, between the elements of air and water that reside within my soul.