Poetry Day today. Just the time to share some inspired creativity from fellow Maldives veteran, in fact someone who has accompanied me from the very beginning of my Maldives odyssey – our daughter Isley. She has become a proper writer of note penning plays that have been playing to sold out theatres in London and the UK for several years. She has been working on a special film project (stay tuned) set in the Maldives itself and was invited by Soneva Fushi as an artist in residence to support her venture (the story is set quite near the Soneva island) as well as to provide a number of presentations to guests during her stay. While there, the tropical paradise and the inspiring atmosphere of Soneva prompted some side compositions which I saved till today to share:
SONEVA FUSHI
An eco symphony
White sand, clear sea
Hot sun, cool breeze
Blue sky, green trees
And hosts like family
Who truly care personally, communally, and globally
Soneva Fushi
Luxury
Sustainably
TODAY I WAS A STARFISH
today i was a starfish
on the beach
akimbo
flat and still
as the tide came in
and washed my body
back to the sea
reclaimed me
as the animal i had forgotten to be
but when the light turned the water from glass to rock
i stood
now dressed in grit and salt
and was lost on land
back home
i tried again to be a starfish
i took off my shoes (leather)
which now felt sharp
lay down on pillows (full of feathers)
and with pain in my heart
remembered the sand
and thought:
what a grossly lucky animal i am
RAIN
it seems
the sky
is furious
but no
it is
in fact
delirious
with her unbridled love for us
so turbulent
so serious
that she pours out her feeling, fierce
and full
blanketing the island thus
to still the jungle to a hush
her tenderness so bounteous
that afterwards
the blossoms all peek out at us
wondrous
at a love
so luxurious
that to drown
would be glorious
‘THIS ONE’
I saw it happen before it happened
the jaunty angle of the bowl
the ice cream melting out
the four year old fingers
and then the tears
when it was all lost to the ground
her brother’s little “uhoh” would not suffice
nor did her mother’s reassurances
and how could they
of course there was another one coming
but the child mourned this one
she was right to
I just didn’t know why
at the time
but later
at the maker’s space
I snipped dirty plastic for hours
the tiny pieces needed for a new machine to transform old bottle caps into things of use
and beauty
and when my hands shook from gripping the tools
I felt like the wobbly child
and when a piece pinged away from me
I felt the shock of the child
and as I laughed with the dutch folks who’s scheme this was
I saw in them the child
because of course there’s another one coming
and another
and another
and another
which is why we must all make haste
to be more like the child
and sob more over waste
Soneva recylcing
