WIND WRITING

WIND WRITING

I feel a close communion now with all of those

Who have left me: heroes like Heathcote, and Harold,

Or, my poor parents, ensconced as they are in their heat,

Borne from the steadying sunburst of stars while I sit

Stricken in part by this weather, glaring through sun

Which condemns me, only to then frown and freeze me,

Making even a fragmented day incomplete. Woman

And man ape themselves at the current time between

Measures. At one point, paths to freedom, and then

A fast return to the cage, with the desire to be what

We were before making Hamlets of both towns

And people, as if, soon obstructed, a future unwound

Incurs rage. Pace and point aren’t replete, as experience

Falls, deleted. In pushing the pen through this poem,

I am raking, or so it feels, disturbed earth. There is

A heaviness in my hand, not from the lack or need

Of invention, but rather to do with who listens,

Or reads it, and when. Where’s the worth?

Perhaps it is yet to be found, and that is what

These words witness. As we endure empty hours

We fill and busy ourselves through the fray

Of invented purpose and proof of our own imprint

On the planet. As if each of us were a poem, a novel

Of notes, a short play. Seeking to rewrite our known

End with a successful sense of becoming, and making

Ourselves our own Summer in this climate of change

Set to storm. So, we weather the way as the day breathes

Despite us and the deaths fate delivered in memory

At least keep all warm. I write these words from the wind

And for the wind too, if I’m honest. As it eases itself

Between houses let it write its own way and restore

Not only the movements you made but those you will

Go on to make in new structures, in which walls become

Windows for the landscapes within broken doors.

The real has been sealed. But now we open the letter.

In reading this you’ll find wanting. And in writing

Yourself you’ll want more.

David Erdos August 2nd 2020

For more poems from David Erdos visit The Corona Diaries collection 

David Erdos is an actor, writer, director with over 300 professional credits. He is a published poet, playwright, essayist and illustrator. He has lectured on all disciplines in theatre and film for leading performing arts colleges, schools and universities around the world. His books include EASY VERSES FOR DIFFICULT TIMES, THE SCAR ON THE CLOUD, OIL ON SILVER, NEWS FROM MARS, CHANGING PLACES WITH LIGHT (penniless press) and BYZANTIUM with the photographer Max Reeves. He is a contributing editor for The International Times and maker of documentaries all over the world. David’s work has been acclaimed by many leading figures including Harold Pinter, Heathcote Williams, Alan Moore, Andrew Kotting, Chris Petit and Iain Sinclair in whose recent book THE LAST LONDON, David features. He can be reached at David.erdos@sky.com.

David Erdos

©    David Erdos has asserted his moral rights as author of his work and has full copyright.