I think I'm in love with the world again

Two poems. Inspired by two birds and a dragonfly.

[This poem was written while I was on retreat at Gaia House in Devon recently. It’s very much influenced by The Windhover by Gerard Manley-Hopkins which is one of my favourite poems and perhaps the first poem I ever properly loved. Although re-reading for the lord-know-how-many-th time I still don’t quite get that last stanza. I’m forever indebted to my dad for introducing me to it and proving to me that poetry doesn’t have to be tedious pontificating or moralising by dead white men - regardless of the fabulousness of their frilly shirts. Soon after I found Benjamin Zephaniah, Adrian Mitchell and Oscar Wilde (an exception to the dead white men in frilly shirts category) and I was away.]

I think I’m in love with world again

The birds are quiet today I thought

I was walking a short path to nowhere

Back and forth

Between one blade of grass here

And a soft looking tuft over there

Obsessed with how the ground

Beneath my bare feet

Could just right now be that springy

Like perfectly cooked victoria sponge

A whisper passed down from clouds via Oak

To the Apple and the Plum

The breeze told me look up why don’t you?

So I saw it landing like a prince

High in the branches of the persistent Ash

Folding wings and regal beak piercing sky

Dappled chest and gold-ring eyes

A hawk? For sure a Hawk?

My thudding heart understanding suddenly the quiet

The lack of bird chat

A breath

A heartbeat

Balancing on the bobbing branch I swear it closed its eyes

Then in air again

Wings spread and soaring - far away

Before I could even exhale my gasp

The beautiful dangerous thing moved on

And Swallows filled the gap

And a Greenfinch started up the chat

But my heart - empty - yearning

Wanted the Hawk back.

[The second poem shared below was written a couple of days before this one. If you know me you probably know I have a dragonfly tattooed on my right forearm. I had this tattoo drawn (by the incredibly talented Sarah-Lu, a Brighton-based artist) in 2017 after a retreat, also at Gaia House, had brought me into close contemplation of a dragonfly over a number of days and I had a mind-changing moment of realisation about my place in the web of life. The drawing is here for me to remember and ground myself. But I honestly also just really loved that dragonfly and came to see it as my friend and comrade. I have been back to Gaia House a few times since then in summer and I have been greeted by a dragonfly in the same spot each time. But this year, though I was there in very lovely weather in June, no dragonfly to be found.]

Elegy for a friend

I took my guarded heart for a walk

Looking for my friend the Dragonfly

A Chaffinch called

Hello-my-dear-there’s-nothing-to-fear

Still the heart guards stood alarmed

The Chaffinch preened repeating

Reitterating

My-dear-be-of-good-cheer-there’s-nothing-to-fear

In the grass at my feet - glass?

I crouched inspecting the glint

Not shards but wings

Three of them glistening

Two thirds of a dragonfly

A fairy massacre

The Chaffinch buzzed its wings

My heart aching for my comrade

Opened the gates as the guards took a tea-break

I heard the Chaffinch call

My-dear-there’s-no-shame-in-tears-for-a-fallen-friend.

[Having done a bit of research on the Devon Wildlife Trust website it seems that the “hawk” I saw a couple of days after the dragonfly-wing-massacre discovery was actually a Hobby. Which is a falcon not a hawk. A beautiful, migrating bird that is particularly skilled at catching dragonflies and small birds. And my two poems now make a different kind of sense to me. A terrible, beautiful story of the circle of things. But I’ve decided to leave this bird as a hawk in my poem because there’s something funny about my certainty in that moment proving to be wrong. And I just really like the sound of the word “hawk” when I read this poem back.

A Hobby in flight - photo by Nick Goodrun (via CC license)

The night after I wrote the “hawk” poem I experienced one of the worst panic attacks I’ve had for at least a decade. It lasted throughout the night only fading when the sky started to get light the following morning. I think I knew it was coming. These times are hard for many reasons. There is a lot of loss in my family and amongst my friends - some acknowledged, a great deal not. Trying to keep a small business that resists extraction and growth-at-all-costs afloat is not easy. And I am so full of fear and doubt about the future and what it will bring for my child and their children in due course. And guilt and regret at what my generation is apparently catastrophically failing to do to avert the worst of that future. In that safe space, held by nature and amazing teachers in the context of a retreat (a great privilege I do not take for granted) I was able to make the space to howl and cry from the most tender part of my heart.

I’m still reverberating from the echoes of what flowed out of me that night. I do mourn the loss of my friend the Dragonfly. And I honour the Hobby that l like to think took sustenance from it. And I am so lucky that more than a decade ago - when panic attacks were the least of my mental health challenges - I was able to take part in an NHS mindfulness course and start down the path of meditation and self care I am still on today. It meant that when I needed to let my heart be sad and be afraid like I did two weeks ago, alongside the terror was a wise voice inside me telling me: this is going to pass and you are going to be ok. In this moment I am more than ok - I am well enough to write this post and share these poems and reflections with you.

Thank you for reading. Sending love and well wishes to you wherever you are.]

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