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A Silent War

by Ross Thompson And Others

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1.
Before, time was precious, never enough to savour the sweetness of days without landmines or barricades...
2.
Remember ten years ago the country was hit, full force, by a cold front so fierce that no amount of grit could thaw the ice. No shovel could dig out the snowfall and return the sucker-punched country to normal...
3.
When the enemy finally came, it invaded insidiously: a burglar stealthily checking front doors of the weak and elderly and those homes whose posts and lintels were not daubed with disinfectant...
4.
An eerie sort of shutdown, a form of solar eclipse that brings to mind parental stories concerning the Blitz: how, at the sound of an ululating klaxon, they hurried to the cramped and dank space beneath the stairs, where they worried that the sky would fall in an avalanche of planks and bricks...
5.
1. As a child, you were told to keep away from tree boles rubbed smooth by scratching cattle, to not build dams in fieldside sheughs or play in stagnant water or stage mock battles near borders where acerbic nettles crept through remnants of ancient kettles and jars...
6.
And before we knew, we were waiting in queues for entry into stores of depleting groceries: home baking aisles picked entirely clean, shelves of tinned goods already resource stripped by a plague of frenzied locusts with an all-you-can-eat philosophy...
7.
In the abandoned Louvre that afternoon, we gazed upon the rectangular space where the Mona Lisa once hung before she amscrayed, was volée, was replaced by a transparent frame of bulletproof glass entirely empty save for a few sachets of silica gel, a slab of climate-controlled nothingness housing a phantom portrait...
8.
What it is to be lonely, like sneaking unseen into a slow, sleeping city in the fuzzy glow of early morning, leaving no trace on grids of unmanned streets, a stagehand creeping unnoticed between scenes, black on black as you fill cups with air...
9.
Thank God for nurses weeping in break rooms: almost broken after a double shift, cheeks striped red from elasticated strips on masks designed to minimise the risk of this deadly disease yet still in fear that this thin armour is not sufficient to safeguard the health of their families yet with no hesitation delivering priceless sympathy and medication to their patients in the direst of straits. Thank God for the doctors going over the top, these modern day heroes marching towards ground zero or bracing groaning surge tents with meagre equipment or facing the scythe with dwindling supplies - terrified, no doubt, for their own lives yet displaying grace under pressure: diamonds forged in the darkness cast by a crisis, ships made sturdy by weathering the storm, their only directive… to do no harm...
10.
In spite of the waves of uncertainty and fear, I slept sounder and deeper than I had in years, and dreamt that the animal kingdom had reclaimed our world, undoing the damage heedlessly waged by a reckless populace. The beasts rebalanced the scales of our indifference: a second chance to treat this Earth with the gratitude it deserves...
11.
A cherry blossom at the bottom of your street has wept, casting petals, said to be edible, onto rain-soaked tarmac, flavouring newly fresh air with vanilla tobacco of sweet meadow. Confetti the colour of pink coral now lies beneath your feet: a sign that you are still alive.
12.
A modern curse, a deep-seated disease, a killer as insidious as cirrhosis or crippling debt or drinking alone, anchored in a human need for the comfort and warmth of skin brushing skin nearly destroyed a town of goodly folk hiding behind closed doors, drawn curtains and raised fences, defending their property with a moat of indifference, a portcullis of ignorance, a trebuchet of inwardness until one brave soldier besieged and broke down these ramparts and battlements with the simple mantra: be kind, be kind and above all else, be kind.
13.
With your hands dusted as if from reading tombstones, you lift the dough, warm as laundered sheets from beneath a towel, and start kneading, both heels stretching and pushing to conjure a stonewashed boulder pillowy to touch and brewery sweet with scent of soda...
14.
This inverted space croons like an ocarina as a cat’s paw sweeps through my careening beachside home, suspended, as if by balloons, past billowing waters and shifting dunes to the great beyond. Slow days were once infrequent. Now, it tastes all the more sublime to relinquish...
15.
And yet, so grateful for the winding down of this clock: a chance to stop, pause, reflect, convalesce and take stock of how we all ended up so cutthroat and cut off, to unyoke our heavy burdens, to walk out of step with jittering rhythms that rendered us underslept...
16.
Tomorrow, we will wake to a green light pouring out like wine from a cracked ewer, spreading across freshly laundered sheets, tickling our chins like butterflies in flight. We will stir gently. The hum of the street will cradle us as the new day resets with gentle fingers caressing our skin, whispering promises of safe footsteps as we forge into the day, hopefully, bravely, arms like topsails between the sun and North Wind, braced for impact as we sprint headlong into the as yet uncharted.

about

A poetic sequence in response to the Covid-19 pandemic, 2020.

All writers recorded the poems in their own homes during the period of lockdown.

All proceeds go to Cruse Bereavement Care.

www.cruse.org.uk

Please consider making a donation by paying for individual tracks, buying the album or by visiting:

www.gofundme.com/f/a-silent-war?

I did not intend to write about the coronavirus because I did not believe that I had anything perceptive or helpful to say about the pandemic that has propelled us into such unsettling and frightening times. However, it was through a conversation with my wife about how this strange situation is similar to the one experienced by relatives during wartime. I began thinking about war poetry as a prism through which the global crisis could be viewed, and that in turn led me to be inspired to write an interconnected sequence of poems called A Silent War.

Then there came the idea to ask other poets to read the pieces: a tapestry of voices from different parts of the country to affirm the belief that this crisis affects all of us.

However, I also wanted the sequence to be positive, not only in the way that it moves from poems of loneliness, fear and isolation to poems of optimism and looking forward but also to use this opportunity to raise some funds. The first charity that I thought of is one that is of great personal significance. Cruse Bereavement Care leant me invaluable guidance and a way to navigate a time of deep and painful grieving and I believe that, without intending to be morbid, this service will be much needed when the pandemic eventually subsides.

Cruse offer counselling, largely by volunteers, to children, young people and adults who have been bereaved. Any money raised will help them to continue to provide emotional support to those in very difficult circumstances.

I would be very grateful if you were willing to help out with this cause. Listen to the recordings of the poems. Share them online. Perhaps think about donating, even a little, to this very important organisation.

Thank you for your time and interest.

credits

released May 29, 2020

Featuring Pat Boran, Glen Wilson, Amy Louise Wyatt, Ray Givans, David Braziel, Linda McKenna, Nessa O'Mahony, Enda Wylie, Cathy Carson, Keith Payne, Tory Campbell, Colin Dardis, Gaynor Kane, Matthew Rice, Mel McMahon and Anna Thompson.

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about

Ross Thompson Bangor, UK

Northern Irish writer.

Debut collection Threading The Light available now from Dedalus Press.

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