Cherry Blossom
Seventh Post, a Poem of our Times
When I first moved to Germany we lived in Bonn. In the Altstadt there is a wonderful street, it was my favourite place to go and get a coffee and a croissant (which is for me one of the greatest pleasures in life!) from "Frau Holler Cafe" The street is filled with ornamental cherry trees and beautiful old buildings and has a funky alternative feel. of course the very best time to see this street is during the blooming of the cherry trees. It changes during this time and becomes a tourist trap. I was struck at the time how invigorating nature is for people.
This morning I read a post from Rebecca Hooper at Between Two Seas. Her wonderful write describes seeing orca off the coast of Scotland, I was struck by her observations of finding magic in the wild. you can read it here:
In the Altstadt there is a similar phenomenon, everyone wants to be with the trees in full bloom. everyone wants pictures and selfies and backdrops of flowers to their life story - even just for that short time they are there. I was reminded of how much nature inspires even the most city dwelling person, even the most vacuous selfie-obsessed of us. How we yearn for something precious and magical - and nature is always able to provide just that.
It saddened me that so many of the people there, seeking, searching, longing and appreciating took pics in that moment or even got a tattoo - but weren't really aware of this lack, this feeling of something missing from their lives that was momentarily being filled by this curated-by-nature enchantment. I wondered could they see in this moment how important it is to care for the natural spaces we are destroying or damaging not least for our survival but for the joy in our souls when we are at one with nature. This poem was first published in Australian and International magazine Cordite Poetry Review in feb 2021.
Cherry Blossom Sky scatters from the cherry blossom, in their thousands they claim the space pink, their endless, fluttering, clusters. The street gives itself to them, pollarded, scarred trunks squat like ego-broken mystics. Pavements offer themselves up as a stage to all fallen things and the cobbles dirt ride on their glamour. The cafes, the shops, all bloom with those flowers, perhaps the scent of the flowers is there, somewhere beneath the chronic petrol, the thick laced perfumes of our consumption. A cigarette burns in the hand of a supplicant boyfriend kneeling before his girlfriend, phone in hand. she is a live stream of a selfie, bubbling for all to see. Here is a crush of girls wanting to be seen with the trees. Arms around trunks, each other, duck-face kisses in amongst that overwhelm of blossom, girls wanting to be seen with nature, by nature, wanting it inked into skin, and posted on Instagram, filter/no filter! to look at later and count the likes. Sightseeing wildness, as if it wasn´t already inside them.
🌸A gorgeous poem 🌸