Entanglement Poem by Vanya Orr

Entanglement

I am not an owner.

A nice little house:
I can love that-
And the children baging in and out:
“Hi, mum! ”
But not to hold.

For it belonged in that moment
Squeezed between the bottom gate,
Swinging stiff past the grey stone & oak scrub,
[The water always did pour through-
grinding a stony hollow in the road]
And the bracken on the hill.

It belonged there.

I take it out
And touch it sometimes-
The different textures
Shifting in my hand.

And then it’s gone
And it’s not gone
It IS in the deep fabric of me.
In the “beyond time” bit
-So I can move on

I don’t own people
Which is difficult for them, sometimes,
-my children

I am not an owner.
There is no beauty in a pinioned bird.
But see him lifting on the wind-
Ah then I fly as well
- my love.

[So why do you throw this shadow over me?
Why don’t you leave if you feel so caged?
Why don’t you go if you feel so unfree?

I try to push you away
So that you can feel your wings.

Like shaking my hand to free flypaper,
I
Get more entangled-
Who is then the fly? ]

(Blaen-yr-Henbant Dec.1990)