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‘WHERE I LIVE’ – WINTER 2023

February 20, 2023:

The creative juices are really flowing out there in the Richmond Fellowship community; among your latest contributions it’s great to be able to feature our first original piece of music! Thank you to Jimmy Alexander of Weston-super-Mare for ‘Welcome.’

Your entries got me thinking a little bit more about ‘Where I Live’ and what it means to me. I grew up in a small Essex seaside town and it occurred to me that while I’ve moved around a fair bit over the years, I’ve always ended up right by the sea. Not by design; I’ve never consciously sought the waves, the sand, the piers and the candy floss. A coastal city or a seaside town were not my pre-requisites when I sought new places to live, to work, and mostly recently, to recover.

Yet here I am, and perhaps deep down there is an underlying reason why I’m so frequently drawn to the water, the ebb and flow of the waves and the strangely soothing sound of those otherwise pesky seagulls providing the perfect respite for an anxious mind.

‘Where I Live’ right now feels like a stop-gap, yet to take a walk just minutes from my house and find such peace and serenity makes this town very much the right place at the right time. – David Mitchell.

We couldn’t agree more with Wilf from Holder House, Abingdon!

By David, Friend of RF

‘Who’s leading who?’ – David Mitchell

‘Summertime’

Garden of eden

field full of dreams

Realistic pleasures

Beautiful ideals

soft gentle breeze

Dance in the glow

Teasing the trees

Nature’s sweet treasures

Live wild, run free

Earthy expression

Take their own lead

Full green explosion

Breathing in the air

Fireflies illuminate

Lighting up like flares

Nightfall comes easy

Hush starts to spread

The sun has gone to rest

In her ember bed

The moonshine takes over

Glistening the view

Eery shadowed vision

Night creatures peeping through

In all of its glory

Rich nature provides

Progressive replenishment

Full wondrous surprise

by Leyla Edwards, RF Recovery Worker, Stowmarket

Journey

My feet hurt, my legs ache, my shoulders are sore.

I adjusted my pack to ease the discomfort. The moon had passed into the dark twice since I left my home.
I was not even sure about this journey, but my mate, our children, & maybe the entire village may depend on its outcome.
My journey began with gifts from the people, & my family. Doe shoes, a cloak from a black bear, wolf leggings and a pack made from the hardened hide of an auroch. Most of all, the pouch containing my offering to the Sun Stones. Pieces of pure copper.

It was colder now than when I started, my hands were stiff as they gripped my spear, luckily I had not had to use it. My knife had broken on the bone of a recent wolf kill, but I could not pass up the free deer meat, & the wolves were not near. After the offering I would shape some flint to replace it.

Most of my journey had been without others, but now as I was drawing ever nearer I could see many more people. We still kept our distance, but all travelled in the same direction.

Some alone with heavy packs, others with their families, even wealthy traders with their slaves carrying their masters burden.

The sun stones paid no heed to who came, just that they did, I had heard that offerings varied. From grains, copper, skins, weapons, & even gold. I hoped my unearthed copper was enough.

I still had my doubts about this trip, were the Stones even real, where did they come from, my mate & village elders said they were a gift. But from who seemed to be unknown, but whoever placed them must have been more powerful than man.

All these thoughts passed, as myself and many other walked in silence as the chill morning air turned our collective breaths into fog. We were on the last part now, we were told by the stone guides dressed in their grey robes, to turn left at the next marker, and that was soon.

I could only hope this was all worth it. Then I turned and looked up. In the distance, shining white in the dawn, I saw them. The Sun Stones. I stopped.

My heart beat faster, even at this distance I could see their size, their presence, their magic. All at once, all the stories, the tales, the Magic of the Stones came back to me. And I KNEW, they were all true. As no man could have built them, only the Gods could have built such immense beauty & power.

I gripped my spear tighter, checked my offering bag, and realised I no longer even felt the cold. As one, myself and the people around me seemed to set off as one, our steps now sure, steady, and quicker.

I knew now that my future, and that of my village was in good hands. As God’s who could build with such Magic could easily aid our small needs. I smiled, my heart strong, I felt tears of joy and hope wet my beard.

It was almost like they were calling out to me, aiding me, giving me renewed strength, filling me with pride.

“Come traveller, come to the Stones of the Sun”.
I cried out, “I am coming, I am coming!”

By Richard Hookway

January 31, 2023:

The words ‘Where I Live’ conjure up so many different perspectives, as we’ve already discovered from the entries received so far.

For many, the natural world around them provides the inspiration in their daily lives; for others it’s the urban world, or the comfort of being behind closed doors.

The history, the culture, the people, the wildlife, and the natural geography can all contribute to a sense of pride in a place; but for some, perhaps not. For them, ‘where I live’ is an unloved place, somewhere perhaps of difficult memories, or boredom, or frustration. A place to endure and perhaps to escape one day.

David of Weston-super-Mare shared this image from last August; sunnier times in a town that has become his home in recent years, a town that’s as bleak as any during the winter months but where the vast beach and calming sea provide a restful place of solace.

My Home Town

The cobbles sweep gently upwards, creating a challenge for even the fittest walkers. The row of houses nestle into each other, making it hard to tell where one ends and another begins. An old wives tale states that if anyone were to remove the bottom house, the rest would tumble like dominos.

This small hilltop market town isn’t somewhere that people stay; it’s where people are born and people retire, and, just like a protective parent, offers a safe place to rest when life takes an unexpected turn.

Little family-run businesses line the high street; cafes and hairdressers and giftshops. Windows proudly display local produce; cakes and pastries, cheese and wine. Clustered in the corners are posters of local events; fayres, plays and concerts, that draw the community together.

Far-reaching views stretch out over the Dorset countryside as my favourite walk takes me past the ruins of the old Abbey; a view that has prompted some people to say; ‘this must be what Heaven looks like.’

This town offers peace, serenity, a place to collect your thoughts. To re-map the future and take a breather whilst figuring out your next steps.

The town knows you will say bon voyage again, but will always welcome you home.

Words & Photo by Becky Bye, Dorset

  LOOSE TOOTH

    Knock

    Knock,

Like a loose tooth you are easily pulled
out of the house in the evening light
by cotton threads of worn tracks

that purl and slip
on beds of chalk and clay
and knobbed flints

pulled tight through tousled heads of thorn and through cowslip, devil’s bit, sheep sorrel.

A kingdom of wildflowers and dark skies.

You could continue –

stepping off this world entirely,
under a crescent moon,
into the valley of the sky:

past the frozen bloom of planets,
the scattered wethers of glittering stars,
following droves millions of years old,

 even to the flax and rags of drifting nebulae,
the slowly turning heads of sparkling clusters
and on –

 to the far flung bluebell galaxies, whirling, and beyond.
Never finding your way back home.

 Or if you do – be told:

 you will coming knocking
 with the night ploughed under your skin
and stars glittering in your forehead –

 making them nervous – not letting you in.

This is a poem about a friend of mine, who has a particular soft spot for the area in which we both live – the Marlborough Downs and Pewsey Vale – dominated by chalk grassland and open skies.

I can imagine him disappearing into that landscape entirely one day.

DOD, Wiltshire 

Don’t forget to share your spark with us!! Our current theme is ‘Where I Live’ but even if you have something creative that doesn’t fit the theme, send it anyway!

You can send entries to our email info.create@richmondfellowship.org.uk, or follow us on https://twitter.com/rf_create and either comment with your entries or direct message us.

Any questions or queries please message us on the above – we’re happy to guide you whatever the ask!

Waiting for FirstBus

A dull, wet, gloomy morning

Clock strikes the minute yet again.

No roar of engine cometh,

collective groan pairs well the pain.

Original time of 8:47,

Now expected at 9:02.

Don’t worry about it they’re just numbers,

And at this rainy stop there’s loads to do.

Imagine if I was invisible,

Could catch this crow I’ve named Gus.

And if I get enough of them,

I wouldn’t even need the bus.

Can scroll more endless social media posts,

Of people looking happy and sun-kiss warmed.

Don’t let the screen turn black,

No likey the sad reflection formed.

Maybe I could steal a car,

Somewhere toasty I am penchant.

But then I would end up in jail,

Not worth it says my conscience.

What are these drivers doing?

Why are they being paid?

To make sure we don’t get to work,

Stop any bricks from being laid.

But they are likely in the same boat,

Underpaid with too many demands.

The big rich bosses at the top,

No trickling down to lesser hands.

So I’ll keep waiting here oh First Bus,

Until you get a clue.

Actually, I think I see one coming,

Oh, who’d have guessed there would be two…

By T Rex, Bristol

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