In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
  • Joining the Bombfest

    For the record, I was one of those who joined the Labour Party after the UK election of last May. Soon after that, I voted for Jeremy Corbyn as Leader of the Labour Party and Tom Watson as Deputy.

    I think that what is happening in the Labour Party is a sorry and miserable mess, but also by far the most creative thing going on in UK politics at present. We are in much greater danger from the present government of the disguised Far Right with its certainties and dis-honesties and treacheries and lies, its denial of and contempt for community and trust, than we are from Labour’s present turmoil and confusion. And there is far more hope of a coherent shape emerging from the Progressive Left that is both honourable and sufficient for present times, than there is from the hooligan crew of sleek PR deceivers presently running this nation. Their way leads to our destruction, and also their own.

    And, for the record, this is what I replied in answer to Corbyn’s e-mailed round-robin, requesting views on joining the bombing war on ISIS :

    “Thank you for your message.

    I agree with the position you have taken.

    Yes, ISIS have to be fought and defeated. They make nonsense of being human. They make only monstrosity. It seems they exist precisely to make nonsense and monstrosity of pretty well everything.

    But by massing together and bombing them from on high, the western forces have chosen the best possible way of merely adding to the power, appeal and threat of ISIS. It is not an army as such. It can’t be bombed away from on high, as if in some computer game. Just restricted for now, at best. Unable to centre itself in a particular place, it will just scatter to everywhere.

    By further joining those bombing forces, the UK will ensure it joins the ranks of first degree targets for revenge, while fuelling yet further a highly volatile situation in the Middle East and across the world.”

    And here are a few stumbling thoughts I put together after the Paris bombings :

    “To try to understand the killing, it is of course relevant to think in terms of Islam, Sunni Islam, the Iraqi war, Syria, Western bombings and how all these and other particular factors have come together and brought about a new act of mass murder and self-murder.

    But I just think that it is even more relevant to think of these events as if it were all one. In other words, the main point is that this (and similar atrocities) is not another way of life, another place, or another race, doing something hostile to Us and Ours.

    There is no Them here. This is Us.

    Our own way of life and being has given birth to a tendency among us which prefers random killing followed by suicide, to continuing to live. A preference for filling surroundings with Death over leaving them to Life.

    So we have to look to ourselves, not to “Them.” “We will now wage war on Isis” is the most fatuous response, the one Isis will want, and the way most likely to ensure that deaths will continue and escalate.

    These bombings by drone from on high were just one way, perhaps the most obvious, to ensure the deaths of all these people in Paris. There was no other response possible to such behaviour and now there will be more of it. Death by drone, death by suicidal gunman, what’s the difference ? Actually a huge difference. But they belong together and, hating both, I cannot see one as virtuous or necessary, compared to the other.

    I’m remembering my early lessons in Christian teaching and my utter bewilderment at Christ’s directions to “turn the other cheek”. What ? Just do it again ? The “pale Galilean” was what DH Lawrence called Christ and maybe this was what he was talking about. I could only hear it as incomprehensible passive aggressive nonsense. But I am pretty sure now that I at last understand what Christ actually meant.  He was alive when the eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth obligation was still seen as a matter of honour, almost a sacred duty. But this meant that killing would never stop. Endless circles, each death requiring another. But revenge is not justice, and another response is required than just revenge. But here, all these centuries later, we still are doing exactly the same, in the leaders’ response to the Paris shootings, and Christ is still light years ahead of us, being crucified again and again in our time. He was trying to replace the revenge killing mind-set with something more sensible, for our sakes. He is still failing. We are still failing Him.

    It is not a matter of inviting ISIS to hit us again. It is a matter of enquiring very deeply of our own way of life, which is the way of life which has partly created ISIS, and from which it gathers its recruits : what do we do that makes young people so hating of existence that they prefer death to it ? What can we do that will restore meaning and hope in life to our own people ?”

     

     

     

     

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  • Truth tells – another time

    Aortal Bleeding

    Perhaps our Creator lacks a mind
    and therefore had no plan
    for how yours and mine
    would work. In which case
    our lives and history
    are just a continuous accident
    like a river nosing downhill
    chancing on points of give.

    But it’s hard not to decipher
    a certain deliberation
    verging on cruelty
    in our Creator’s gift to us
    of the capacity to lie.
    Lying is a declaration
    of war on Otherness
    a blow for the unbridled self.
    It is similar to our gift
    for doing evil. Our lying and our evil
    threaten all our Creator’s work.

    If our Creator had a mind
    perhaps He was thinking
    that our god-given lust
    for the lie
    would teach us that truth
    works better. For trust
    is like blood and lies lead
    to aortal bleeding. We are bleeding
    our hope away. I have
    no doubt that just
    before it’s too late
    we shall remember
    to worship the truth
    and shall punish
    as enemies of Creation
    all who lie.

    Rogan Wolf, November 2015

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  • Going to Work

    7.7 King's Cross Alexander Chadwick

     

    The leaves are sodden they’ll take
    months to become useful again.
    I bagged them today

    in a world so warm
    I used my fingers to rake
    the grass clear of their wet colours.

    I imagine them now as I write
    with the wind getting up
    and the fox stirring for his scavenge through the dark :

    there will be no more light, no air
    they are packed dankly together
    they have begun

    their long settling back
    their loss and blending of shape
    their winter’s work.

     

    (I wrote this poem in the Autumn of 2006. The picture I have attached to it was taken by Alexander Chadwick in the London Underground under King’s Cross Station. He was following his fellow-passengers as they made their way up to the surface, in the hours immediately after the London bombings of 7th July 2005)

     

     

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  • Truth tells, twice over

     

    Air Threat

     

    The space outside

    grows too dangerous to tolerate

     

    too frightening to explore.

    It has been poisoned.

     

    There was a time when danger

    threatened only across deep water

     

    but now no longer.

    All the systems, the traceries,

     

    the capillaries

    are fracturing

     

    right here on the doorstep

    a degeneration

     

    working its way

    into the mortar

     

    into the brain.

    The air between us

     

    is disintegrating.

    Do you not see it breaking up ?

     

    The door blows open.

    The lie walks in.

    Rogan Wolf, October 2015

     

    Street Safety

     

    Our houses stand like a coast of sheer cliff

    granite and immoveable.

     

    But they are just targets

    there to be hit.

     

    It is words that will stand true

    words that can’t

     

    be blown away

    words charged

     

    and pulsating

    that will light our street.

    Rogan Wolf, November 2015

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  • Dignity and Light

    Dignity and Light posterTwo new poem collections are about to be uploaded on the website of the project I run, called “Poems for…“.

    One of them is on Learning Disability and is called “Poems for… Bridges to Learning Disability”  The other is on mental ill-health and is called “Poems for…Self at Sea“.

    The poems in both collections bring together many voices and many years. Some were written in the first person, others from a place of close contact and witness. They constitute an attempt to create a language of real warmth and connection that will break down barriers. I hope that, in time, both collections will be used in schools as part of a teaching package.

    The charity United Response worked closely with me on this and we launched the collections in October in Bristol by means of an exhibition.

    This took place between October 5th and 8th. The poems were displayed as posters. A rather lovely book of them was (and still is) available as well, produced by United Response.

    At the same time, a journalist called Saba Salman uploaded a good piece about the initiative on her blog. She called it “Shattering Stigma with the Power of Poetry.” You can find the piece here.

    The exhibition made direct reference to the themes of World Mental Health Day and National Poetry Day, both of which took place in early October. The theme of the first day was Dignity and of the second Light.

    A formal launch took place mid-week, compèred by Ali Vowles, of BBC Points West.

    For those who don’t know about the “Poems for…” project, here is some background :

    I have been running it since 1998. Over the years, it has been funded by the UK Arts Council, the National Health Service, the King’s Fund, John Lewis Partnership, the Baring Foundation, the Mayor of London and the Foreign Office. It offers small poem-posters for downloading, free of charge.

    The poems are designed for display in schools, libraries and healthcare waiting rooms. In recent years, many of the poems chosen have been bilingual, with fifty languages represented so far, each with its English version alongside. The bilingual poems offer recognition and exploration of difference and celebrate it. But beneath that difference, they communicate vividly our commonality. These two new collections explore difference of another kind, a difference common within all languages and all cultures.

     

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  • Poems for United Response (2)

    United Response is a UK registered charity which supports people who have disabilities. It aims to help them fulfill themselves in the community. It seeks to ensure they receive their basic human rights.

    It is one of many good organisations seeking to maintain and strengthen our society’s bindings, in times and under leaders seemingly intent on weakening them. I came across it after crossing a bridge. A few more details are available in my first post of this same title.

    I’m contributing poems to the organisation’s monthly Postcards from the Edges online bulletin and also, more recently, to its bulletin for staff.

    Here below are the latest, one for each bulletin.

    The first is by me, attempting to do justice to, and find words for, the experience of my late sister Kim, who had Down’s Syndrome.

    The second is by a Consultant Oncologist called Dr Sam Guglani. It describes an encounter between doctor and patient and I find it utterly beautiful. The original was written in prose and in “translating” it into a poem that fits into a poster, I have had to cut it a bit. I think it should accompany the Hippocratic Oath as a basic text for medical training.

    Here are the poems below. If you click on the titles, you will be re-directed to pdf versions, which can be printed out.

     

    Going for a Walk

     

    When I go for a walk
    people look round at me.

    Will you come too ?
    Will you hold my hand ?

    They look round at me.
    There’s something wrong.

    Will you come too ?

    Perhaps I’ll put my ear-phones in
    and play my music extra loud.

    I am going for a walk.
    What’s wrong ?

    Will you come too ?
    Will you hold my hand ?

    Rogan Wolf
    October 2013

     

    Kim was my sister. She had Down’s Syndrome. We often went out together. Some of the words above are hers, some mine.

     

    from Fingerprints

     

    Look at how we start, like fortune-tellers,
    at the hands. Here by the window,
    where ward meets world, I examine

    this man’s, turn them over like found leaves….
    A tree surgeon’s hands, he says, my skin
    pressed in to other life, its bark and blood,

    just like you doc I bet, your fingerprints
    handed to others… I think our bodies
    are this, that we merge really, collide

    and become the breath of others. Here,
    he says, go on, have a whiff. My fingers
    drum his chest. Did you hear those sounds,

    he asks, from that comet, like whale song,
    mermaids? The ship they landed,
    its name, what, Philae? – it means end,

    or place’s edge, some frontier where
    things meet… I shine a light in his ears. Hard
    now to tell which of us is speaking, where

    the voice comes from. One of us says thank you.
    I go to wash my hands but, seeing them
    in the water, stop, turn, return to him.

    Sam Guglani

     

    Dr Sam Guglani is an oncologist, and founder of “Medicine Unboxed.”                 Poem reproduced here by kind permission.

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  • Despatches to my Gazan Son

    At the end of last year I translated into English a long poem by the distinguished Turkish poet Cahit Koytak. In Turkish, the poem is called “Gazze Risalesi.” It was written in 2008, but could just as easily have been composed last Summer, during the Israeli bombings which took place then, too. It seems that not much has changed in Gaza over the last seven years.

    The poem consists of an extended lament and protest and meditation, in almost biblical terms and tones, on the fate of the Palestinian children in Gaza, in the shadow of the Israeli wall. First the poet addresses a young Palestinian called Yusuf, then a young Israeli called Joseph.

    I have no doubt that the poem should be read in many other languages besides Turkish. For the apparently unending and irreconcilable stand-off between the Palestinians and Israelis, is not just a distant local affair, between “foreigners”. This conflict near Galilee takes place on a continental and historical fault-line that runs through the flesh and awareness of every European, since Europe’s connection with Jewishness is an ancient and barely redeemable entanglement, as is the connection between the three great faiths which share the Old Testament as holy book and claim the same hot patch of the Earth’s crust as holy land. And that entanglement continues unresolved, creating new victims, new scapegoats, new nightmares, new sin and new shame, every day.

    The poem is soon to be published in book form by the Yunus Emre Institute, the Turkish equivalent of the British Council (the Institute is named after the Sufi poet Yunus Emre, who lived in the thirteenth century).

    The Yunus Emre publication will not just contain the Turkish original. There will be an English translation and maybe even an Arabic one, as well.

    I wrote the English translation, working partly from a literal English translation by Mevlut Ceylan, a Turk himself who has lived in London for many years. Doing it has introduced me to the poem’s author, Cahit Koytak, whom I had grown to love even before I met him in June of this year. With his assent, I have entitled the English translation “Despatches to my Gazan Son,” a slightly different meaning from the original.

    For the Turkish word “Risalesi” is difficult to translate adequately into English. It apparently implies “Chapbook” or “Notes”or “Jottings” – something produced in pencil or by degrees or in episodes – not a formal whole.  “Despatches” has some of that feeling, though with obvious military connotations. But the poem is full of almost familial love and grief and outrage, as well. Hence “…to my Gazan Son.”

    You can read my English version of the poem here.

    But it is becoming available in other forms and media, besides hand-held book and text online.

    For instance, it is already on YouTube, now in two different languages – Turkish and English.

    The Turkish is a recording of Cahit Koytak’s own voice, with his Turkish words appearing onscreen at the same time as his voice speaks them.

    And the English is a recording of my voice, accompanied by my English translation in the same way. My son Nik did the recording.

    Both films offer the same succession of photographs of Palestinian children in Gaza, those pictures downloaded from the internet by two of Cahit Koytak’s sons.

    Also, an online journal of good quality called “Electronic Intafada” has published some short excerpts from the English version, at the same time providing links to both the You-tube films. The magazine’s editors chose the excerpts. I think they’ve chosen well.

     

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  • Poems for United Response

    United Response is a registered charity which supports people who have disabilities. It aims to help them fulfill themselves and be less isolated in our community. It seeks to ensure they receive their basic human rights.

    In mentioning this particular organisation here, I am not seeking to advertise it at the possible expense of others in the same field, all of them forced to compete with one another by the policies of successive UK governments in thrall to a fundamentalist belief that the market and market principles belong in all activities, all parts of our Society. United Response is just one of many good organisations seeking to strengthen the bindings of our community. It is my view that competition in this field is a waste of good energy and irrelevant to excellence. All of such organisations need to flourish.

    I just happen to have come upon this one, after crossing a bridge one day. It is responsible for various highly imaginative ideas including an online periodical called Easy News and another called Postcards from the Edges. It campaigns for Every Vote Counts, an initiative designed to make politics accessible to all, particularly people with learning disabilities, most of whom are entitled to vote.

    Getting to know United Response, I have found that there is often and already a fair amount of poetry in its veins, but it pleases me to think that I might be able to add some more.

    So I’m contributing poems to its monthly Postcards from the Edges online bulletin and also, more recently, to its bulletin for staff.

    Here below are the latest, one for each bulletin.

    The first is by one of the people supported by United Response. I saw Luke’s piece at an exhibition of the some of the postcards.

    The second comes from a series of poems I wrote some years ago, called “I Hyphen Thou.” The series borrows the hyphen idea from a book by Martin Buber called “I and Thou.” The hyphen connects people. It is precarious but also precious ground. We need to defend and look after it. Without it we are nothing.

    Clicking on the titles will link you to the pdf versions, which can be downloaded.

     

    Stig’s Helmet

    My favourite TV
    programme is Top Gear.
    The Stig has a talent
    but hides behind his helmet.
    I have lots of talents
    but do not hide
    behind my autism.

    Luke

    from Hyphen Loitering (with intent)

    …I believe today I almost met someone.
    For just a few moments, possibly,
    the whirring edge of me
    disturbed some surface of attention.

    Perhaps in time I’ll risk being still enough
    actually to meet a whole person.
    I wonder would either of us survive
    the awe and enormity of true encounter.

    I loiter here between lines of thunder
    poised for that sudden break
    that momentary opening
    my own hushed moment of interruption….

    Rogan Wolf

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