Where now your voice?

October 03, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
“Where now your voice? Kind words handed selflessly Good deeds Without question or query Remembered Echoing Reverberating Never forgotten by those Privileged To have known you Honouring Keeping alive your memory”   Here, in Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire, the wind blows though I await one that roared from Liverpool Bay, Atlantic teeth in its terror. Fear not this night. Though a precursor for soon Pennine gales chills my bones.

Children huddle together, taste fear: Arrow, Part Seven

October 03, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
  Dust rises, high above the trees, Arrow stops, children huddle together, taste fear. She flies, till a black dot, vanishes into expanse. Looking up eyes hurt as sun blinds childrens’ unprotected eyes: they wait in silence. Hours pass, sun past its zenith gradually sinks into the west. Dust billows still, growing broader in its vertical column. Ruth, Maria, James and Paul break silence, talk quietly together, await their black friend. Squawking, chirping, cawing, not one, but two birds circle. Arrow, not alone, glides effortless down, rests, her companion waits, a distance away, high in branches. Sun, now almost hidden by trees, dips, the sky closes over in darkness. The children sense some strange excitement. Arrow flies to her companion, larger, snuggles together, sleeps the night. Once more the forest creatures form their protective circle of warmth, of fur and sharp claw, of wide eyes and sharp pricked ears. The longest night: children mumble, though sleeping, their minds, wonder, dream aloud of what these changes signify: the dust, Arrow’s time away, her partner. The woodland creatures, always a discreet distance away, closer tonight, they could hear them breath, feel the warmth of their bodies, see their silhouettes as the moon […]

Sounds of voices, of engines, of tears, far behind: Arrow, Part Six

October 02, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
  Arrow finds confidence, children quicker, raise wet bodies higher, dare to look where they are and eyes fixed rigidly to the bird in front. Moving left, moving right, paths remembered from above followed now. Above ground in the silence of her flights, aloft in blue, to hacking, coughing, gasping children. An hour, two, three, rain, swampy paths, deep in forest, the sounds of voices, of engines, of tears, far behind. The clouds clear, the day ends and the sky darkens. They sleep, huddled together. Arrow perches, above, sentinel on guard, sleeps fitfully, till daybreak. Warm sunrise steams the dampness from their clothes, from vegetation and tall trees. Arrow too feels warmth. Children, yesterday miserable and weary, waken and move with spring in their step, and silently together hear the forest come to life. Hunger fed by wild fruit, berries Arrow landed on and pecked, brought them to eager hands, devoured rich juice and sugar sweetness. Strengthened. Walked and walked. Everything a chatter, a song, a growl, the gentle whispering of trees. Sun higher and higher. Walked, foot sore. Rest, follow Arrow. Seemingly tireless she chivvies them on: over roots, streams, up hills, brushed past bushes that pricked skin, stumbled […]

Marion, Ruth, Paul and James, memories fading fast of summer: Arrow Part Five

October 01, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
  Arrow, eye to the left, eye to the right, eyes in front and scanning around. Heart leaps in adrenaline, needs to find, needs to see, needs to escape and needs to save. No mate, alone, her purpose defined in memory not yet clear: only her feelings. Marion, Ruth, Paul and James together, memories fading fast of summer and Arrow. ‘Halt!’ a soldier barks. They stop. Thousands of people. Soldiers shouting, a truck, deep grey, mud splattered, lies on its side. Arrow flies dangerously close, sees the children, lets out a loud ‘caw, caw’, and circles where they are, being pushed this way and that, soldiers moving, cursing, pushing back the human column, terrified in its expected fate. Four children see Arrow, drop their sodden heavy bundles of rags and slip away to where she circles between a row of houses. No one notices, their heads bowed, hats pulled over faces, soldiers busy with work and swearing, searching for ropes and ignoring the crowd. Arrow banks, changes direction, flaps her wings, the children crouch and follow. Slowly at first so not to disturb soldiers’ expectation of shooting at sudden movements crouched low: rifles ready to crack death. Stealthily break through […]

Children alone .. neighbours jeer and spit: Arrow, Part Four

September 30, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
  Children becoming more alone, cry more often at night. Soldiers stop them more, neighbours jeer and spit. Friends, more cautious, at night give them food, getting scarcer. Dark clouds of summer storm, rain, wind and fear. Arrow’s blood courses cold, shelters more, deeper, in her nest. Her neighbours long moved off as train rails shook their homes. Foreboding, not a fear of the forest where all kill to live and live to kill as a necessity continuing nature’s circle. Arrow senses something more. Rain pounds her body her wings thrust her forwards, progresses slowly her mission. Lightening tears the sky apart. Rain cuts through the forest, the land, slashing sheets pound on trains whose lamps illuminate the wet sheen of rail steel. Past sheltering animals she flew, over swollen streams, alone, brave, cold. Bundled rags, bound together, shouting soldiers, long coats, rain dripping from helmets, guns covered as protection from the elemental force of nature’s anger. Pushed, herded, moved into a throng, along the wide rutted and deep pooled tracks between fenced off houses, searching for James and Ruth, Maria and Paul. Skin wet, feet sodden and cut frozen cold, rain, non-stop, in their town for the very last […]

What if I am dreaming fantasies: night cannot hide

September 30, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
  What if I am dreaming fantasies self deceit happy in normality as life around me what I wish for can never be no matter what words praised admired count for nothing nightmares end in daylight false hope is worse because the day never ends and night cannot hide  

Four young children watching: Arrow, Part Three

September 29, 2014 by Richard Lyon in Blog 0 comments
  Arrow, her usual place, moved quickly her head, this way and that, ruffled her feathers, spread her wings, sang, watched. Aware of four young children watching her. Pride in being herself, joy in singing, of seeing children, close, and smiling in wonderment and pointing at her. Sitting on sun baked earth and listless grass, talking quietly squinting eyes in Arrow’s direction. A hand reaches out to Arrow, some grass, a little seed in Ruth’s outstretched palm, a curious smile of wanting to communicate with their new neighbour. Ruth’s eyes, aglow, moves, slowly, towards Arrow’s perch. She flutters, looks about, sees nobody else, wings forward, pecks at the seed, flies back. Feels. A taming, a desire, a movement inside of her pulsating breast, triumphantly chirps. Children smile and then giggle and laugh: dirty clothes and shoeless forgot hunger sharing with Arrow. Weeks go by, routine, after flying the forest, over the town’s rooftops, trains filling with people and baby wails and mother’s tears settles, each day, its oak perch. James and Paul, Ruth and Maria, each day too. Food and joy, Arrow flies to Ruth, perches on her hand, pecks seeds, Maria strokes Arrow’s head with her fingers, touches gently […]