Still
...a poem for when your world gets turned upside down.
The river still tumbles towards the sea.
The waves still roll in.
Cow parsley seed heads still shiver in the breeze,
and meadow pippets still sing on the wing.
Pebbles still tinkle underfoot like piano keys.
Rockpools guard treasures left behind by the tide.
Great black-headed gulls watch for gifts from the sea;
still hovering, still waiting, still biding their time.
Storm-weary kelp still washes ashore;
holdfasts no longer holding anything.
Bubbling eddies still refuse to go with the flow,
and despite everything, the surfers head in.
The sky is as wide and open,
the lighthouse still as steady –
even in the aftermath,
even today.
Nothing will ever be the same,
but then nothing ever is.
Everything is, as it ever was,
changing every day.
The tide line
I wrote this poem a few days after the 2024 US election, but have left the cause of the ‘aftermath’ deliberately ambiguous so that it might provide solace for any world-shifting event – whether it’s personal, political or (as they increasingly seem to be) both. This poem is part of my (self-initiated!) writing residency at Gwithian Beach. I read about the idea of a ‘self-appointed artist in residence’ on Amy Stewart’s Its Good to Be Here, so thank you to Amy for this idea.
I am a craft, nature and sustainability writer and a certified Blue Health Coachâ„¢. To learn more and try a Blue Health Coachingâ„¢ tool for yourself, visit makingdesigncircular.org/coaching.