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
That’s a really moving piece Angie. xx
Author
Thank you. Tricky times xx