Wednesday 15 August 2018

When Grenfell ~ a poem


Yesterday was the monthly silent walk in solidarity and community with the people of Grenfell. Touching times, as ever. There is so much to be found there which is an inspiration for how to live more deeply and lovingly in the world, how to stand firm in the face of corporate indifference, how to keep hope alive in a world which so often suggests that it would be easier to let it die. It is both a privilege and a blessing to stand beside them in my own small way.




This month's walk was smaller, which had been expected over the summer months, but it is so often the case that when we break a habit it is hard to go back to it, even when we want to. I hope that people return after the summer holidays and, if you have ever thought of joining in the walk, please do. It takes place every 14th of the month, gathering at 6pm at Notting Hill Methodist Church, and walking from 7pm. You can check the details on the silent walk Facebook page here https://www.facebook.com/GrenfellSilentWalk/ I know that it matters so much to those who continue to fight for justice for their loved ones that as many as possible stand with them. News moves on to the next thing. It is so easy to forget. It matters that, this time, that doesn't happen.



And here is a maybe-finished poem which has been going round and round in my head as I walked over the last few months. With thanks to John Clare, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Gerrard Winstanley, Gerald Manley Hopkins, and Terry Pratchett for the borrowed lines. I hope that they wouldn't mind too much. It was done with much respect for their own journeys with the Land.

When Grenfell

When Grenfell,
when green fell,
when the green heart fell,
they dropped it and we picked it up.
They call it protest, we call it love.
And I am walking hand in hand with John Clare
who walked the land as prayer
and saw it lost,
the fences raised, the green ways dust,
and we have tied defiance in our hair,
and ceased to weave with toil and care
the rich robes that our tyrants wear,
know this earth was made a common treasury
for every man to share.
Because there is no justice, there's just us.
And we are all peasant poets here
we will not give way to fear.
Gerald Manley Hopkins, pray for us;
let kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame,
reclaim the blaze that wrote their names
in ash, turned hope to stone,
took their homes.
Just another Enclosure, 
another Land Grab,
another Clearance, 
another little tyrant with his little sign shows 
where man claims earth glows no more divine,
but this glow is not going out.
Our silent footsteps fan the flames,
keep live the spark,
community becomes the still beating heart, 
and where the green heart fell we pick it up.
They call it protest, we call it love.

(Jacqueline Durban, 15th August, 2018)


References:


Terry Pratchett, "There's no justice. Just us." https://www.azquotes.com/author/11842-Terry_Pratchett/tag/justice


'As Kingfishers Catch Fire' by Gerard Manley Hopkins 


1 comment:

  1. a beautiful poem... "they call it protest. we call it love."

    truth. there is quite a lot going on in the world that calls our love into the streets.

    ReplyDelete

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