Saturday, 1 August 2020

Wake Up

Wake Up

A poem for Wakefield. 





There’s a first time you hear a word

A brief, crazy time when that word drifts free

With all its spikes wobbles and and curves


A moment where it bobs around

Loose of meaning

Just a sound


Just a thing unto itself

Alive

It doesn’t last long

Words solidify

Form themselves around meanings and objects and emotions and items of furniture

And sort of die


Associations capture sounds in sticky webs

The thrilling nonsense of dancing consonants and vowels

Calcifies into everyday usage

Becomes functional


And you forget, for the most part

That first time, when they were just a glorious noise


However


I do remember where I was when I first heard the word 

Wakefield

It sounded so mysterious


I was ten, I think, and in tremendous pain.

I’d fallen onto concrete, through a roof, 

And though confused I remember a grown up saying

“We need to get these kids to Pinderfields,

In Wakefield”


Wakefield! Place of healing. Far away. 

It sounded flat, and dark, and grey.

Get these kids to Wakefield!


Rewind a bit. 

These kids? What kids?

What kids have tumbled through a roof?

What kind of roof can a kid tumble through?

Roofs are solid, surely?

This one wasn’t.

Not entirely.


It was the roof of a garage that belonged to my friend John

Or more precisely to his father, his progenitor

Except it wasn’t a roof of a garage

Because we were Blake’s 7

And this was the flight deck of the starship Liberator


Blake’s 7 is a TV series from 1981


It’s set in space


We were pretending to be Blakes 7. In space.



I say Blake’s 7

I didn’t have six mates

Blake’s 3. 

Four if you count the milk crate

Which to all intents and purposes

Played ORAC


ORAC was the computer in Blake’s 7


He was the same shape as a milk crate


We were ten. Leave me alone.



Who’s we? you ask, delighted at my tale

Despite its lack of evident structure   

It was me and John and Lisa

That’s who

John was my friend and Lisa was his sister


Though it was only me and Lisa who went tumbling through

Because it turns out we weren’t sitting on a roof

We were sitting on a window covered with a sheet

Which just looked like a roof

But sadly, for Lisa and me, lacked the robust, child supporting qualities

You would have got from a roof


I hurt my back, I was otherwise fine 

Lisa fractured her skull so I assumed she was dying

And that’s why she had to go

To Wakefield



Lisa went to Wakefield and got her head fixed

My friendship with John was gone by 1986

We moved on, we grew up

I became friends with Paul

Blake’s 7 was cancelled after series four


And when I was 21 I moved to the town

That first spoke its name when I was

Lying in pain on the ground 

And it’s where I have stayed

And it’s where I lie now


I am lost and I’m found there

And my fracture remains

And this random word, “Wakefield”, has settled to mean 

“I am home in this place”


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