London My Beautiful.

Last week in an area of London I worked in for many years and know extremely well, a terrible tragedy occurred.   The 24 storey Grenfell Tower was destroyed by the fiercest and most unforgiving fire.  A horrific event, where many people lost their lives, in the most shocking way, the number will be unknown for weeks to come, and others witnessed the most devastating and total destruction of their homes and lives imaginable.  It would be impossible to read the stories and watch the news reports and not shed tears.  A couple of weeks before that another terrible event took place on the capitals streets.  Terrorists reeked havoc and destruction where lives were lost and others irretrievably changed.  All of this makes me so sad.  I love London deeply and passionately.  It has been my home for 22 years and the thrill I get from living and working in this incredibly vibrant, creative and generous city is as strong now as it ever was.  I grieve for the London I love and the Londoners who I will never know but feel an affinity to, not just because of these events but because of the privilege I share with them of calling this city mine.

As I so often do when seeking solace, I turned to words and to poetry.  In doing so I came across this beautiful poem by F.S Flint.  I was smitten by the opening line  ‘London my beautiful’, and moved by the eloquence and imagery used to capture my beautiful city.  I hope you are able to enjoy it too.

LONDON By F.S. Flint

LONDON my beautiful,

it is not the sunset

nor the pale green sky

shimmering through the curtain

Of the silver birch,

nor the quietness;

it is not the hopping of

of birds

upon the lawn,

nor the darkness

stealing over all things

that moves me.

But as the moon creeps slowly

over the tree-tops

among the stars,

I think of her

and the glow her passing

sheds on men

London my beautiful,

I will climb

into the branches

to the moonlight tree-tops

that my blood may be cooled

by the wind