Oxygen

These past weeks have made us more aware than ever before of the need and value of oxygen. As a malevolent respiratory virus has caused devastation for thousands in our country and across the world, many have been struggling to breathe and have needed urgent oxygen treatment in hospital. We heard our own Prime Minister speak of how he needed litres and litres of oxygen pumped into his lungs so that he could live.

At the same time as this disease has left many mourning the loss of loved ones, the accompanying lockdown has seemingly made the skies bluer and the air clearer. It has enabled me and those in our household to enjoy the outdoor air more than ever before, with walks and bike rides around our beautiful Stanley Park, Salisbury Woodland and along the coast.

 I wonder also if this enforced time of lockdown has made us rethink what is really important? The phrase ‘oxygen of publicity’ is sometimes used to describe those who seek media attention because they require it to keep their celebrity status before people’s eyes. Whereas, those who work in often unnoticed and unrecognised roles, don’t get the attention their work deserves.

Equally, having more time has allowed me to read and write poetry, which is part of my ‘oxygen’ for daily living. I came across a quote which inspired the poem which accompanies this blog: "Plant trees, they give us two of the most crucial elements for our survival: Books and oxygen."  A Whitney Brown.

Touch wood

In this neck of the woods

I put down my poetry book

and am in a wood in minutes:

sycamore, ash, maple and oak

and no two trees are the same.

Generous lungs of the earth,

they help the planet breathe.

I hope to draw their oxygen

to my respiratory tree

so this heart can beat and grieve.

I want to hug the greying beech,
a name that shares the root
with the Old English word for book.
I crave that reassuring touch,
We’re not out of the woods yet.

Trees outlive us and I envy them
their permanence. They have the
wood on us as nothing else
on earth can be said
to look so beautiful when its dead.

There are trees that have fallen
and those that are felled. Dried
and seasoned, they’re cherished
lovingly and are smoothly planed
to a finish that is silken.

They are the ones that will furnish our lives,
the ones that will remembered for good
and ones which may become a coffin
for us to hide our bodies in.
Touch wood.
 
Thank you for reading and stay ‘oxygen safe’.

David Wilkinson