Dark Angels Note 53
Welcome back to our writerly thoughts to distract, inspire and reassure you. Be well, keep reading, keep writing and know that we’re always here..
Some of you noticed last week that we’ve now racked up a year’s worth of Dark Angels Notes. The passage of time is inevitable, but don’t those beating wings still catch you by surprise?
There is a theory that we measure time by firsts (first day at school, first goal scored, first kiss and so on). Take a moment to reflect on one of your ‘firsts’ and start there. Pay attention to the rhythm that mirrors how fast or slow time passes during that all important first.
These days, it seems, I am winding my clock an hour forward
with every second weekend, and the leaves on my Marc Chagal calendar
flip as though they are caught in some covert draught.
These days I haven’t time for people on television or aeroplanes
who say’ momentarily’ meaning ‘in just one moment’.
These days – these days which are fairly unremarkable –
light falls, outside of my window, on the red brick planes
where the trees are coming into leaf. These are the days
of correcting the grammar on library desk graffiti,
the cheap, unmistakeable thrill of breaking a copyrite law.
But these days, like Cleopatra’s Anthony, I fancy bestriding the ocean;
these days I am serious. These days I’m bowled over
hearing myself say ten years ago this … ten years ago such-and-such
like the man left standing, his house falling wall by wall,
in that black and white flick blurring headlong into colour.
By Leontia Flynn
From These Days (Jonathan Cape, 2004), © Leontia Flynn 2004.
And if I speak of fortitude
Than I am speaking about my grandfather
And if I speak of my grandfather
I am speaking of Geordie determination
And if I speak about Geordie determination
I am speaking about my father
And if I speak of my father
I am speaking about risking it all for a farm
And if I speak of risking it all for a farm
I’m speaking about the hope that lies within the land
And if I speak of what lies within the land
I’m speaking about working the land
And if I speak of working the land
I’m speaking about fortitude
Lee Ryan wrote this poem in response to a reading of Roger Robinson’s poem, ‘And If I Speak of Paradise’ at a recent Tuesday night gathering. Neil subsequently shared Lee’s poem with Roger who responded with: “Wow, that’s amazing. So glad it connected. Thanks for sharing it.”
Join us via Zoom for an hour of writing and talking with other Dark Angels. We meet at 7pm UK time every Tuesday. Click here on the night. There’s no need to register in advance and we’ll be using the same link every week from now on. There’s no charge. And feel free to bring a friend along.
From everyone at Dark Angels
Also published on Medium.