The Voice that Thunders
[A cut-up poem inspired by, and in honour of, Alan Garner and his work]
In order to understand what I had –
the landscape I inherited,
the beauty things,
dreams and patterns of myth –
I found myself walking.
Every minute of every hour of every day
I remember too much.
Fierce fires and shramming cold,
the nature of myth and time,
bring me simplicity and strength.
Intellectual in its function
our greatest prophets go unnoticed.
Other times, hard times,
living and battling through
physical reality beyond the page.
The voice in the shadows –
inner time – a simple story, simply told –
it stood for all that I’d had to give up.
There will be only winter,
the skies will fall.
The voice that thunders
intuitive and emotional in its execution,
numinous and emotional in me –
at the edge of the ceiling
the stars will fly.
Madelaine Smith recently visited the United States and when at Immigration she was asked what she did, she managed to say ‘Poet’ and not laugh.
Note: Words cut from: AI sheet for Boneland by Alan Garner, Chapter headings of The Voice that Thunders by Alan Garner, article by Philip Pulman, interview with Alan Garner