A poem to celebrate National Poetry Day, Libraries Week and 88 year olds everywhere

I wrote this poem, which was published in MsLexia magazine, after seeing a news clip about an 88 year old lady. She had recently learned to read and had therefore discovered a whole new world of stories. You can see the news report by clicking on the link under the poem. 


Once upon a time

Once upon a time, all she could do

was drift her hands along each silent spine

or turn hieroglyph pages like a visitor

lost in the streets of a foreign land,

her forehead a frown of lines –

a message of bewilderment she hoped

others could not read.

 

Then, like whispers, or baby footsteps,

or leaves dropping like scraps of tissue

kissed by an infinitesimal breeze,

shapes on pages birthed sounds on her lips -

each day a new one, a tiny gift –

and in her mind, dragons, heroines,

castles, pirates, the sighs of reunited lovers. 


Watch the news clip - have a tissue handy


Comments

  1. Ruth Leigh7/10/21 12:57

    Oh my goodness that is beautiful!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fran Hill8/10/21 03:03

      Thanks so much, and thanks too for reading, Ruth!

      Delete
  2. River7/10/21 21:26

    I didn't need a tissue, but I did smile very wide. I can't imagine not being able to read, I've done it since I was three.
    I hope more old people who can't read are encouraged to learn.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fran Hill8/10/21 03:03

      Wouldn't that be great? I wonder if there are schemes to encourage this. It's the kind of thing I could volunteer for. I will look into it.

      Delete
  3. Deborah Jenkins8/10/21 13:51

    I welled up. Beautiful and moving as the first time I read it.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fran Hill9/10/21 15:33

      Thanks, pal. Yes, I must remember to write some new ones and post those!

      Delete
  4. Diana Studer8/10/21 14:27

    I often think of people who have recently left school and are functionally illiterate.
    But can't begin to imagine going thru all those decades with half of my life missing.
    What a magnificent and satisfying achievement. And your poem brings it to life.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fran Hill9/10/21 15:34

      Thanks, Diana. I agree with you and wonder how the lady managed all those years. It doesn't sound as though she tried to hide it - I've heard stories of folks who just covered it up for years, which is so sad.

      Delete
  5. Jude Simpson10/10/21 09:35

    Love this. Your poem does beautiful justice to an already moving story. x

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reasons why Fran is desperately in search of earbuds

Image
My try-to-get-fitter walk in the fields today was a silent one. I usually listen to the radio through earphones but have lost one of the soft earbuds and nothing spoils a walk more than having hard plastic nudging up against your fragile tympanic membrane. The BBC's  'Woman's Hour' is a brilliant programme but loyalty has limits.  It was disconcerting, walking in silence. Listening to radio distracts from the disturbing reality that my legs are propelling me in forward motion because, if I think too hard about this, I frighten myself.  Today, while walking, I had to listen to my own thoughts.  And now I've listened to my own thoughts, I remember why I like radio better. The inside of my head is like a wastepaper basket.   Be grateful that I only offer you a brief excerpt.  Oh, look, that bird is - / Where did I put that mark scheme. I'll need it for - / My shoes are getting muddier./ Maybe mash with the fish tonight / really muddy / The trees are definitely more
Read more

Evidence that we don't always have the right words to say at the right time

Image
The Younger Daughter was reminding me about how, when she's just accidentally burned herself and is hopping up and down in the kitchen, my instant response is 'Careful, that's hot!'  Or when she's just tripped up a step, that's the time I choose to say, 'Watch yourself!' That's me.  Eager to be helpful.  Caring Parent of the Year. But it's instinctive, isn't it, to say something completely inadequate in the face of crisis?  It's a strange feature of the way we communicate sympathy.  What about the following situations ... When someone's fallen over and is lying flat on their face, we say: 'Oh, no, are you o kay ?' When someone's just set off down the road to the shops, then lets themselves back in five minutes later, cursing and stomping, we say: 'Did you forget something?' When we come across someone sobbing their hearts out .... ..... we say things like, 'Is something the matter?' To the
Read more

More evidence that the wrong consonant makes all the difference to a famous book title

Image
More typo-lit, one of my favourite genres: To Kilt a Mockingbird - a tale set in the Southern States of America in which a young family move into the area from Aberdeen.  The children are found dressing the local wildlife in tartan and have to be taught that clothing innocent victims in bright material is not acceptable.  The little girl (Scot) says, 'Shoot, Pa, that's the darndest thing I ever did hear!' and there is surprise all round at her adoption of the local dialect in such a short time. To Kiln a Mockingbird - a tale set in the Southern States of America in which a wise father teaches his children that to put an innocent bird into a red-hot oven, converting it into an attractive china piece for the kitchen, was bound to upset Aunt Alexandra when given as a birthday present, and if this was indeed their intention, they deserved a whipping.   They don't get the whipping; the father can't stand Aunt Alexandra either. To Bill a Mockingbird - a tale set
Read more