"... watching starlings
gather in for the night
leaves me yearning
for connection
to return to knowing
without explanation
to meet others
with shared purpose ..."
I suppose you could say that the experience of the Covid pandemic made this poem possible. You could say that and, on one level, it would be true, but on so many other levels, it wouldn’t. Of course, the pandemic put an end to gatherings for most of us and I’m not sure we’ve ever fully recovered. I still have to pinch myself when I go into a coffee shop and the place is buzzing. Is that just me? I find it’s small things that make all the difference. An unexpected encounter, for example, can sustain a mental boost for days afterwards.
That said, the tendency to which I allude in this poem is more about me than the pandemic. I’m an introvert, so avoid events involving lots of people. My idea of a good night out is actually a night in, having dinner with friends. The food that doesn’t have to be fancy, just cooked with love; what could be better?
The idea of walking into a party of strangers, where I perhaps only know the host and one or two others, simply doesn’t appeal. I’ve never mastered the art of making small talk whilst also holding a glass and a plate and repeatedly telling people what I do for a living. It’s excruciating. Add to the mix several giddy children running wild. I’m sure you get the picture.
But when we were invited to a friend’s 40th, of course I said we’d go. She’s a darling girl and why wouldn’t I want to celebrate with her? Showing up is what friends do isn’t it? It tells them that you care. I would’ve gone even it was fancy dress, (which it wasn’t, thank goodness!).
The thing is, whilst I want to avoid the crowd, I do welcome celebration. I yearn for ritual, for symbolism and marking milestone moments. Well, I was brought up a Catholic; ritual was woven into my school days as regular as the Angelus bell. Almost every day of the year was allocated to celebrate one saint or another, not to mention the annual festivals. Yes indeed, the Catholics had it covered – a prayer for every eventuality. I left all that behind years ago, but have never truly found an alternative to satisfy my desire to make sense of the world. I guess writing has been my chosen sacrament.
Digital technology has created a world in which we can meet via screens rather than in person. Don’t get me wrong – that can be amazing. I can now see my friend in Australia whilst we talk, which is a joy. That said, I hardly ever call my friends or my family; I text. It means I can think more clearly about what I want to say and they can read it at a time convenient to them. The downside is that I can’t pick up their mood as readily as if we were talking, actually face to face.
I guess, in the end, it’s about balance. I need quiet, introverted time for sure. But I also need the company of others, to answer a need in me that I can’t satisfy alone. The party turned out to be a success all round. I knew more of the crowd than I thought I would. There was live music, delightful children who unashamedly danced with anyone who was willing, and oh … the fireworks were magical! I left with a glow about me, which I knew I couldn’t just keep to myself. Hence the poem, I had to share the love.
fi wynne writes 