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Otherlander
He came from a lost village
he couldn’t remember which one
or how it came to be missing
as it was so long ago
perhaps it had been a frowned
drowned sort of place
or a bulldozed overdosed one
somewhere that wouldn’t be missed
he had been wet behind the ears
but soon fitted in with
the new strangers
although they spoke differently
and seemed disinterested
in anything that was other
his parents never talked about
their origins
and stayed that way until the end
those nights when he could sleep
deep in the cosy burrow of forgetting
he dreamt of a place
that smiled
that worked
that knew its history
what he couldn’t know
was that everyone else
was dreaming
of returning to somewhere
they had never been
he got over it
there had been many villages
lost for various reasons
that’s the way it was
people becoming unwitting
pieces on a giant chess board
that used to be their country
Cantre’r Gwaelod - or any homeland lost or mislaid, or taken from you. Apparent acceptance and indifference may be used as a protective shield in order to preserve a private and personal interpretation of what has been lost.
Myth and legend are powerful tools in the forging of community identity but those within communities also need to validate their individuality as members. The creation of a personal narrative that, while unique, is a reflection of and contribution to the society in which it is formed is often the means. In this manner are myths and legends adopted, personalized, reiterated and disseminated often returning in a fresh guise for succeeding generations. Stories are mutable, narrative allows for extemporization and expansion, the fleshing out of an original in order to establish a freshly relevant dynamic.
The world is extraordinary we in comparison are ordinary. Myth and legend in their way continually relate this. They are reminders and warnings from our past selves concerning the reality and nature of our fragile human existence on an inhumanly indifferent planet.
Poetry at its best contains all this - Otherlander ***** (5 stars)!
Thanks Thomas.
Cantre'r Gwaelod was one the stories of my youth on the coast of Ceredigion. As a child, I was advised to listen out for the bells of that lost land. I never heard them but kept the story in my heart, in my mind.