Pole Star

Judith Brunt:

 

Recently, an friend of mine from a while ago, when I was a governor at Sheffield Tertiary College, contacted me because she had Googled her own name and found my reference and thanks for her help with the 'Pieces of Eight' art and design work.

 

I was very glad to hear from her as we worked closely together for a time until the colleges were amalgamated. I was not entirely displeased at my loss of position as the hardest work I did was trying to stay awake during the meetings.

 

Judith had lost her mom after a serious illness and presented me with the image of holding her hand as she slowly slipped away. Her mom's hands were, to quote Judith herself, 'no nonsense' hands.

 

I allowed the subject to swirl around my sub-conscious for a while until an angle presented itself. I took the view that if eyes are the windows to the soul, hands are an accurate illustration of the silent degeneration brought about by age. The 'fraying off' of accurate genetic information is never more apparent than when you grasp the frailty in fingers that once so surely dressed you. 

 

 

Pole Star


As I watch
The sun set
On bones in hills
Silvered rills
Blue in shadow
Empty
I catch a leaf
Five pointed star
Life curls it
To fit my hand
My fingers close
As the shape
Becomes me
In the not-now
In the will-be

 

Autumn colours
Wrap the Maypole
The DNA pole
Each strand
Shortening
Youth detaching
Slower dancing
Tempo of blue
Resting rhythm
In my skin
The final ribbon
My hand buds open
As the leaf
Resumes its fall


Bill Allerton (27-01-11)

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