Distancing ~ Pat Bryden
We wave
across a street.
We call
on phone or when we meet.
We listen
as if newborn, awhile,
to children, birds and dogs,
and smile.
Distance…?
Does it mean apart?
Apart…
Does it mean distant?
Or, by a quirk of nature
Turning what we knew as ‘normal’
upside down,
Could that distance
make us closer?
*
Week 7: Selective amnesia flavours this VE vision of the terrible six years of WW2 ~ Hilery Williams
Monday 11May
I was angered at the jingoism of the suggested ‘Celebration’ (not even a commemoration) of the 75th anniversary of VE.
Vera? The Queen?? Churchill???
Seriously????
I find the mawkish evocation of WW2 metaphors and imagery surrounding this crisis to be abhorrent. The language of war – heroes, medals, Red Arrow flypasts – is utterly inappropriate, as is the suggestion that we collectively ‘celebrate’ a ‘Victory’ over our closest neighbours (some of whom may even be next door neighbours).
The modern army of nostalgia-mongers cynically and deliberately manipulates some people into accepting passively the status quo. Acceptance is a political and ideological stance, like it or not.
This unreflective lethargy – this denial of the fact that everything we do has a political component – ensures that fundamental changes necessary to improve our society never happen: Café Nero or Di Georgio’s, Amazon or The Golden Hare, Tesco or Tariq. It’s our choice.
*
Botanic Gardens
It’s a real pity the Botanic Gardens aren’t open – they would be a perfect haven these days. Here’s a kind of diary poem about a visit there in happier times a few years ago.
BOTANICS IN MAY ~ Hamish Whyte
on the way to the Botanics
spot a magpie
in a wild garden –
that criss-cross lollop
down the slope
through the bluebells
wild garlic and dandelions
now in the gardens
I’m sitting on a bench
dedicated to the memory
of Mr & Mrs Robert Miller
reading a book about China
in the shade of a Chinese tree
it’s not quiet
what with the birds
and a motor mower
mowing nearer and nearer
a girl going by
with her mother
keeps saying
‘it’s most likely that…’
above the pages
glimpse a couple
of wheelchairs
a wee boy
in a red baseball cap
appears
I say hello
he shows me a daisy
he’s just picked
‘four’ he says ‘a four’
in the shop
sudden surroundsound
of wind gong
and wind chimes
on the way back
stop on the river bank
to watch a heron
stalk and catch an eel
flick it from side to side –
fly off with it still
wriggling in its beak
it’s spring
and all