16 Oct 2018 / #Arvon50
Arvon: A Clear Space
You’ve needed this trip, you’ve committed
you’re in the room and you feel guilt, guilt and fear;
this clear space is a gift you gave yourself.
Your window opens into the fields and trees,
your phone has no signal, (that’s a good thing).
Empty your too full brain to make space for yourself.
These walks amongst the Seqouias
nervous squirrels at their root, with your boots
caked in mud watching static cows in the distance.
Your lungs expand, you’ve lost the wheeze of ash.
The birds are singing loudly and the grass is wet;
Your body adopts a different rhythm despite yourself.
The bell rings out for food and you’ll talk to others
who are on this journey of clearing
and you’ll bond to your temporary tribe.
At night the wine will flow with feelings
and in conversations with strangers
a poem will start blooming
rising up your spine; filling your head,
and a story like burgundy will spill
on to the white sheet of your page.
And as you take your taxi away down narrow lanes
your work will always help you remember
this time you gave yourself; space to be.
Arvon is 50 this year and to celebrate we have collected the stories of writers far and wide who have a tale to tell about Arvon. The collection will be published in our anniversary booklet and featured on our blog throughout the year. The following poem is by writer Roger Robinson.
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