Generosity

If you know me, you’ll have already heard (and been bored to tears by now) that I met my favourite rock star, John Lodge of the Moody Blues recently. We’ve had very brief encounters before, a quick autograph, a wave as he’s dashed from the stage door to the waiting tour bus, and the moment he kept still on stage when he noticed I was taking a photo of him. I’ve spent hours waiting outside venues, ever hopeful, often in vain, but in true rock chick style, I’ve never given up. A Sunday evening in Shrewsbury during his recent solo tour was the best. I had a front row seat, booked an eternity ago, and of course, the concert was fantastic. I have his guitar pick for a memento. Later, some of us waited in the upper foyer by the stage door. I expected a fleeting glimpse as he was rushed past by minders, but no, just the opposite. He mingled freely with us, relaxed and unhurried, chatting as he signed things and posed for photos. He was friendly, very down to earth and genuinely interested in his fans. It won’t matter if we never meet again. I enjoyed a conversation with him, during which I mentioned the song he had written for his grandson and he showed me a photo of him. He made this senior rock chick incredibly happy by being generous with his time.

 

Having time or making time for those who need me is a priority shaped by my upbringing. I’m thankful to have had a childhood in a close family that gave me lots of contact with all my grandparents and other relatives. I was always welcome, nothing was too much trouble for these generous people who were happy to adapt, to share and to help. I know how fortunate I was. I know how different it can be for others.

 

I confess, I’m new to the work of Lemn Sissay. I was listening to a condensed account of his biography on the radio and I wept with overwhelming sadness at the separation from his mother and loss of his true identity. I felt shocked at his turbulent upbringing yet proud that he found the strength of character to grow into who he is today, writer, poet, Chancellor of the University of Manchester and MBE. He was twenty-one years old before he discovered his birth name which helped him to find and become reunited with his mother. Learning about him touched me deeply. His poems reflect his generosity of spirit, the spirit of his nature which I feel is what carried him through his childhood.

 

INVISIBLE KISSES

 

 Written by Lemn Sissay

 

If there was ever one

 Whom when you were sleeping

 Would wipe your tears

 When in dreams you were weeping;

 Who would offer you time

 When others demand;

 Whose love lay more infinite

Than grains of sand.

 

If there was ever one

 To whom you could cry;

 Who would gather each tear

 And blow it dry;

 Who would offer help

 On the mountains of time;

 Who would stop to let each sunset

 Soothe the jaded mind.

 

If there was ever one

 To whom when you run

Will push back the clouds

 So you are bathed in sun;

 Who would open arms

 If you would fall;

 Who would show you everything

 If you lost it all.

 

If there was ever one

 Who when you achieve

 Was there before the dream

 And even then believed;

 Who would clear the air

 When it’s full of loss;

 Who would count love

 Before the cost.

 

If there was ever one

 Who when you are cold

 Will summon warm air

 For your hands to hold;

 Who would make peace

 In pouring pain,

 Make laughter fall

 In falling rain.

 

If there was ever one

 Who can offer you this and more;

 Who in keyless rooms

 Can open doors;

 Who in open doors

 Can see open fields

 And in open fields

 See harvests yield.

 

Then see only my face

 In reflection of these tides

 Through the clear water

 Beyond the river side.

 All I can send is love

 In all that this is

 A poem and a necklace

 Of invisible kisses

 

 

Thank for reading, Pam x