Patterning I-We
I go for a wander, and wade in your fen,
Smell: rich, reek time.
Who are I-we now? Who were I-we then?
I siT aTop a ciTy’s seaT and waTch.
Westerlies move with deep time grace over land marked by our hand and changing at pace.
I love this place and hold it dear,
But I struggle when asking, ‘Who is I-We here?’
In Sandwood Bay a ray’S bone StickS out from the Sand,
And rays of light hold clouds above the land;
And the sea and river enacts a pattern of relationality that leaves me awe-struck.
I sit aTop a TenemenT, hewn from sand. And listen.
To young Gulls-Mew and Swifts-Screech
And reach anew, as hands clasp and wet eyes glisten.
A memory that moves me.
…
I-We fall as rain, and move down the river;
‘Familial ties flowing to the sea’.
And as Some rivers do, ourS braidS, and we settle in the mud,
And a question then settles in me.
…
How would it Feel, iF, I were to change?
Change as the Westerlies and fen fields do.
Embrace the patterning I-We that moves through time,
And step-in to rejoicing anew?
