This was a poem I wrote in stream of consciousness during a night-time thunderstorm. Poetic I know. Earlier in the day, I had found out I was moving from my childhood home. This was a nerving and disruptive realisation that forced me to think about what my future might be like. This poem explores how writing can be cathartic, particularly when adopting an imaginary voice and a life that isn’t yours. When writing, I lost myself in a world where I had the force to control every decision.
Life is unexpected, marvellous and a lot of the time – out of our control. It is good to escape sometimes, we need the novels, paintings, films, television series and so on. Particularly today, in light of the mental health crisis I see art as a vital vehicle in improving the health of those who cannot always see the light in life. I have found refuge in the power of the pen, the ability to create a world far away from the one I live. To get lost in your imagination and another worlds is a gift. Often, the greatest part of all, is putting down the pen, returning to reality and realising that life really is the greatest tale of all. Unexpected, beautiful and educating. Of course, not everyone might feel the same way, but it is the duty of the writers, musicians and the artists to ensure as many people as possible can enjoy life and its great gifts.