The Family of Things

“Untitled” by Kim Whan-ii

There is something deeply poignant about the call of wild geese as they fly overhead. I am brought back to the breath of a present moment by their haunting cries. With outstretched necks, muscular with the desire to be elsewhere, the sight and sound of these geese reaches a visceral place inside. I am moved by such strength and determination.

I also admire their solidarity. Their flight formations enable the intense effort involved in migration to be shared out for the benefit of the whole flock. And if a single goose comes down to land, whether from exhaustion or sickness, two other geese accompany it. They will wait there with it until it recovers or dies. 

In Mary Oliver’s poem “Wild Geese” she speaks of how, through the call of the wild geese, the world offers itself to our imaginations. It is often through a connection with nature, through its unwavering mirror, that I find my authentic self reflected. And at this current time -  a time that feels particularly divisive, it is vital for me to be clear about who and what I feel connected to.

Grey Areas

                                                     Grey Glove on Manhattan Sidewalk
                                             

Some time ago a friend gave me a copy of  Han Kang’s “The White Book”, described as “a lyrical and disquieting exploration of personal grief through the prism of the colour white”. I had  enjoyed reading the book and engaging with Kang's unique explorations of the colour white and so I suggested to my writing group that as our next project, we could each choose a colour and, over the course of six weeks, make our own explorations of our chosen colour.

The colour I chose was grey - a favourite colour of mine. I began by mapping the associations that came to mind from thinking about the colour. I then turned these ideas into a list poem which in turn became the focus of further exploration.

Grey
Rhondda Grey
River grey
Rain
Rain
Rain

Clouds
Mist
Shadows

Webs
Eyes
Hair

Jets
Warships
Doves

Bedroom Paint
School Uniform

Slate
Squirrels
Scans

Grey Areas
Grey Matter
Grey Mare

Moth
Mouse
Moon Rocks

Grey Sidewalk
Grey Glove
Grey feather

Sloughed Snakeskin

Vacuum Cleaner Hose

"Across the Evening Sky..."

                                                           "Waiting for the Light"

I spent solstice with friends - two leggeds and four leggeds. We took a picnic down onto the beach that looked across the estuary to Ynys. The sky was reflected in the water and the water reflected our personal ebbing and flowing. We celebrate the longest day, knowing that the light will be less as we turn again on our axis. And we are constantly turning there, each on the pivot of our own axis. There will be goings and comings as some prepare to leave and others return home.

Dusk fell as the swifts swooped and rose again and again above us. Their lively energy felt like a thread that was weaving us together as friends - right there, right then.

We walked through the lanes to the highest point on the hill and watched darkness fall across the last pink of the setting sun. The sea was still and the harbour lights lit up one by one, like tiny beacons of hope. I thought of the song "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?"

"Sad deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it's time to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time

For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?"