Taking Flight

I recently purchased a beautiful book of poems written by Iris Murdoch called A Year of Birds, and 4 nights later I participated in a stunning workshop led by Laurie Bolger on the theme of flight. The universe it would seem was determined to make me examine my own bird-like tendencies and consider my relationship with flight in a way that I never had before.

I have always had an impressive skill of reaching for those columns of warm air and knowing when to let go of solid ground. From a very young age, I was described as having my head in the clouds/stars which has only become more relevant with age. I’ve always had a vivid imagination, helped in part by my literature consumption but also because of my childhood where I was mostly left to my own devices and so had to find a way not to let the loneliness creep in. From the moment I was able to, I’ve hopped from one country to another, migrating away from the cold at home, whether actual or metaphorical and I’ve always had high aspirations, instilled in me by my parents and kept there out of guilt and fear.

The problem is, I’ve forgotten how to land. People often stop and marvel at what they see as my ‘busyness’, my tendency to dance around on little fragile bird feet from one thing to the next, always twitching my head in the direction of a new project or idea. My evolution has turned me into a bird who is always on high alert, always searching, always taking off, always soaring – but very rarely grounded. When I am, it’s not very long before I’m off again, watching everyone below, envious of their stillness. I am exhausted.

I wrote about the experience recently in a poem I named ‘First Generation Fledgling’. In it I explore the pressure of being a first-generation grammar school and university student who tries to fly only to find she keeps falling on the floor while everyone else is safe inside the nest. Eventually, battered and bruised, she manages to stay in the air, but it is at a cost – she can never return to the feeling of safety she felt when on the ground. The poem ends:

I climb back into the nest where they lay in contented warmth,

heads buried into feathers amongst old egg shells.

Bruised and tired, I stand on the edge once more, arms to the sky, their dreams and pride

threatening to crush me into dust. I shed it all like

feathers, let go of my string and wait for the wind

to carry me away.

I was inspired to write it after reading ‘Bird’ by Liz Berry. I implore you all to read it and pay attention to the beautiful movement she creates through structure and imagery. Once you’ve read it perhaps you could have a go at this month’s writing prompt:

Imagine you are a bird or have the ability to fly. Perhaps you can recall a childhood dream of being able to fly down the stairs or open your window and fly across the hills in the distance. Use structure to make your poem fly from one idea to the next. Describe what you can see from your birdseye view.

When you have finished feel free to share your thoughts over on my social media page @words_and_wine_ashford where you’ll find a multitude of other prompts to inspire your writing.