This poem, by Michael Rosen, was shared in the comments by Robin Gardner this morning.
I cannot find it on the web.
I hope Michael will forgive me for sharing it this morning, when it is so relevant:
I lay in bed
hardly able to breathe
but there were people to sedate me,
pump air into me
calm me down when I thrashed around
hold my hand and reassure me
play me songs my family sent in
turn me over to help my lungs
shave me, wash me, feed me
check my medication
perform the tracheostomy
people on this ‘island of strangers'
from China, Jamaica, Brazil, Ireland
India, USA, Nigeria and Greece.
I sat on the edge of my bed
and four people came with
a frame and supported me
or took me to a gym
where they taught me how
to walk between parallel bars
or kick a balloon
sat me in a wheel chair
taught me how to use the exercise bike
how to walk with a stick
how to walk without a stick
people on this ‘island of strangers'
from China, Jamaica, Brazil, Ireland
India, USA, Nigeria and Greece.
If ever you're in need as I was
may you have an island of strangers
like I had.
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As I just commented there, Rosen echoes William Butler Yeats, “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t yet met.”
Sadly brilliant. From when he had covid. He was placed in a coma because he was so ill,fortunately for him and us he survived.
I saw John Crace mentioned the strangers in our land line in Starmers speech had been taken from Enoch Powell rivers of blood address to Parliament, an obvious dog whistle.
Shocking stuff.
This beautiful and powerful poem is on Michael’s FB page and easily shareable from there.
Thanks
I had to show that to my wife, and let her read it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to read it aloud to her without weeping.
Of course, Michael is no longer welcome in Labour circles, as he is the “wrong sort of Jew”.
Thank-you Richard.
Richard, musically speaking it may not be everyone’s cup of tea but there is a wonderful folk group from Stockton on Tees called The Young’uns who in 2017 released an album called ‘Strangers’. The last track is called ‘The Hartlepool Pedlar’ which is well worth a listen with a lovely twist at the end. Also, the next time you hear of migrants drowning in the Channel listen to another track ‘Dark Water’. It is truly moving. Then ask yourself the question: would these two tracks feature on a Starmer or Farage playlist? Just these two songs illustrate why the far right hate the arts!
Thank you. Two songs, one humorous and one deeply moving. And from some very talented lads not far from my adopted home in Billingham.
That is beautiful. Thank you for sharing and reminding us there are still some very decent people out there.
Super duper and that riposte about ‘Strangers are friends that you just haven’t met yet’ is bloody good too.
I have two books of his from his covid experiences. One called Many Different Kinds of Love is about his experiences of Covid and his rehabilitation. That has all the messages in left by the nurses and people who looked after him, mainly strangers from all nationalities.
The other book, a signed copy from Toppings, is called Getting Better, and is more of his thoughts about life or as he says it, Life lessons on going under, getting over it, and getting through it.
An interesting part in that is from when he was sacked from the BBC and he thought it was because he was suffering from an underactive thyroid and couldn’t get up in the morning. However he was told that it was because he was thought to be too left wing for the BBC. He was told that in 1984, eleven years after he had been sacked The story was printed in the Observer the next day.
Thanks
I found some source attribution for the poem – Michael Rosen posted this poem on facebook 11 hours ago (as of 11:54 am): https://www.facebook.com/michael.rosen.5496 (scroll down a little to find it).
Surely the much abused, true origins of both Powell’s and Starmer’s images, are to be found in Auden’s poem Look Stranger –
“Look stranger at this island now, the leaping light for your delight discovers… “?
I say, much abused, as the two politicians put the metaphorical imagery to such hideous purposes. However, they were not alone.
Poised almost exactly half-way between them, the metaphors were exploited in Michael Dobbs’ House of Cards novels (from 1989) and again in the BBC adaptations (1991-1995). Dobbs wrote them as a Thatcherite Tory MP (effortlessly since ‘raised’ to the Lords) and the TV version, with Ian Richardson’s chillingly deadly central performance made them unforgettable. However, it was to Michael Kitchen in the second series (To Play The King) that the Auden imagery was harnessed – but in a manner completely at odds with both Powell and now Starmer. Here a ‘new’ king, David (an apparently deliberate riff on the Prince of Wales during the Depression of the 1930s) makes use of the Auden original, complete with moodily staring from the white cliffs, in order to focus critically on the social wasteland created by Urquhart’s (Thatcher’s) hideously unequal England.
Moved by the ghastly era through which we are now living, I have just rewatched the series and the contrast of the approaches is, I fear, as telling a cultural marker as one could find for the country and the ethos, we have lost. Halfway between Powell’s raving and Starmer’s shabby jingoism, there was still enough of a civilised polity for that romantically plotted plea to find a public, albeit imaginary, space – and from a Tory pen and then revisioned by the BBC!
Politicians and metaphors are nearly always a perilous pairing – but they often reveal truths about the nature of their abusers.
It can also be found on Michael’s twitter site, albeit as an image of the text.
He certainly gets right to the crux of the matter with his writing.
Thanks