Rainbows Behind Glass: A Lockdown Anthology

Everything Will Be Alright The house is a mess; everything is going to be alright The bins haven’t been collected; everything is going to be alright The cat strides in, flaccid feathered thing hangs from its mouth; everything will be alright Raised voices next door. A thud and a sharp scream; everything will be alright The children play on rusty swings; everything will be alright The dealer beats the addict who sang to the police; everything will be alright The rain drips through the whole in the roof; everything will be alright The pitter patter of my bucket nearing its rim; everything will be alright I turn off the TV, cover my ears and close my mouth; everything will be alright Stuck as in a slammer, serving time for crimes we didn’t commit; everything will be alright Tender hooks tumble, words that shouldn’t be said; everything will be alright We can’t look at each other the next day; everything will be alright Strained, suffocating, stuck. We continue to survive the pandemic, but I wonder the same of our marriage. Will everything be alright? RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 151

Lockdown Metal detectorist leaping Adrenaline, skin flap unfurls. The father folds back a colourful display Scaled claws ready, they dig. They unearthed the item. Rhombus. Shiny. Mirror-like but darker than silver The boy turned it around in his lap, Pressed the button. The screen lit up, leapt back in shock, A message: Hello In ancient human text. The area fenced off, Archaeologists dig Code breakers working The electrical device. The device itself could teach An app, Duo-Something Eventually, deep in the Earth They discover an ancient habitat. Bodies. Live bodies. Startled eyes. Scurrying, scared of the dark. Reptilian screamed in horror, As humanoid, alive and startled, asked: Is it over yet? Can we go outside? 152 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Family Ties I’m done with you! She writes with a venom My own nan, grandma, dad’s mum Who used to give me pic ‘n’ mix. I came out as gay and she didn’t care You’re my grandson, I knew all along But you had to come out on your own Wise words surprised me. She moved down South I visited, then spent the night With a friend at the local university Open day. I looked around. I moved into the Halls of Residence Just after nan moved back to Worcester. Coincidence? Or was she avoiding me? A few months later she calls. I’m visiting my old neighbour Did you want to go out to lunch? She didn’t tell me in advance. I’m an afterthought. Graduation. Oh, we’d go to your ceremony If only we could afford it. Then she buys a pedigree. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 153

The dog is boisterous. Grandad is sick I offer to walk her. Nan says: No. We’re fine. If you want to walk dogs, Volunteer at the shelter. We have differing views on Brexit. Facebook debate ensues. We each say our piece. She plays the victim. When I see her, she says nothing. Until I get up to leave. An uncomfortable hug, Whispers in my ear: You little shit! Weeks later she messages: You still haven’t apologised. Neither has she. I’m done with you, she writes. Her son, who failed to launch, Moves in, offers to help out Soon loses his job and spends His days playing video games. A free pass, living with mum Rent-free. His girlfriend moves in. They scrounge. The house is Unkempt, garden a mess. 154 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Nan swaps rooms with them, So, they have more space. Dad gets a message, She’s updated her will Nothing says love like a footnote. Mum tells me that she baby-sat once Emphasis on once. Several hours without food or drink, Dehydrated. Mum was furious. Dad tells me she never used to cook. Instead of dinner he was sent to the shop And spent the money on fags instead. School lunches were ketchup sandwiches. Social isolation. She messages me. I hope you’re okay, love nan. I sigh. I hoped she was done with me. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 155

Verification Of Expected Death Where does it hurt? In my neck, left hand side, Low towards the shoulder, Throbbing, sore. Stiffening, It spreads. I can’t move my head. The nurse asks, Does this hurt? Squeezing the upper trapezius I wince – or try. Movement doesn’t come. My clenched jaw doesn’t respond To form the words I have no breath Panic. I try to look around. Nurse removed her fingers No pulse! She shines a light Into my eyes. Irritating No response, she sighs, Time of death 13:15 I attempt to cry, Rigor mortis taking hold Aware of everything Until they lower me into the hole. 156 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

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DAWN WRIGHT (She/Her) Lives in the Cotswolds. Is transgendered; m to f. Is in a loving relationship with a “jellyfish called Atolla.” “If it had not been for lockdown, we would never have met.” Dawn believes in equality, diversity, bioluminescence and“slime.” RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 159

The Poem And The Jellyfish Introduction: by PENNY SUMNER I really enjoyed writing this little tail. At times though I found it quite hard to get my point across. Moving the story forward was difficult. Actually, some ideas just seemed impenetrable! Perhaps I pushed too hard. Eventually something just clicked, and the story flowed out. Now it just leaves me to thank my friends Paddy and Dic for all their support I couldn’t have done this without them. One day a poem decided to take a holiday by the seaside. He picked up his bucket and spade, and putting one foot in front of the other, toddled off down to the beach. It was lovely warm and sunny. The sea was calm and clear. After having sunbathed for a while, the poem decided to dip his imagination into the water; hoping he might find a cool verse. As he was fishing around, he suddenly heard a strange voice! “Hello.” “Who’s there?” said the poem. “It’s me, I’m over here.” said the voice. The poem looked around and saw a little wobbly jellyfish. It was as clear as glass, and had lovely long shiny tentacles, that sparkled in the sunlit water. It was waving to the poem from behind some pretty seashells. “Can I help you?” said the poem. “Yes please,” said the jellyfish. “Can you take me shopping?” The poem was very surprised by this request. After having thought about it for a few seconds though, he decided it might make for an interesting poem. “Ok.” He said. “What’s your name? Mine is Compo.” “Jelly... obviously!” She said giggling. 160 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

So, Compo plopped “Jelly Obviously!” into his bucket, and without a second thought, walked into the nearby town. “What do you hope to find?” said Compo. “A personality” said Jelly. “A personality!” exclaimed Compo: “how fascinating.” Secretly Compo wondered why Jelly didn’t already have a personality, or even what had happened to the old one. But he was too polite to ask. Compo put his imagination into overdrive and wondered where he could find one. After a few minutes he came up with a clever idea. “I know, we can go to the pub have a drink of ginger beer and listen to all the interesting personalities. People always get louder and more expressive after they have had a drink or two.” “I can’t drink beer. It would make me ill. I don’t have any ears either!” said Jelly. “Oh no! You poor thing,” said Compo. “I know,” he said,” as I walk around the town, just stand up in the bucket and see all the interesting people milling about.” “I don’t have any legs, or any bones at all!” she said. “Oh no, how sad,”said Compo now having to think even harder. “I know, we could go to the electrical shop and you could watch all the interesting personalities on the television.” “I don’t have any eyes,” said Jelly. “Oh no: no ears, no bones, you can’t drink beer, and you don’t have any eyes. This is turning into a very sad state of affairs” said Compo. He thought again. “I know, let’s go to Mr’s Traits delicatessen. You can smell the ‘happy strawberries’. Smell some ‘sour dough.’Try some ‘melancholy melons,’ or even sniff some ‘boring porridge.’ Maybe we can find your personality that way.” RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 161

“I don’t have a nose!” said Jelly. “Oh no!” said Compo now feeling sadder than ever. Compo was starting to run out of ideas. Also, he was beginning to feel very protective towards Jelly. Even though she didn’t have a personality there was definitely something about her he liked. Jelly was also beginning to like Compo. She felt safe in his bucket and she loved his imagination. Compo had another idea. “I know, just use your imagination and invent a personality, I do it all the time, it’s easy.” “I don’t have a brain!” said Jelly. “Oh, my goodness, no beer, no ears, no bones, no eyes, no nose, no brain, this is sadder than sadness itself: this is turning me into an epic tragedy.” Jelly didn’t know what an “epic tragedy” was, but she just hoped it wouldn’t stop Compo from helping her. Compo thought again. “I know, we can go to the fishmonger, and get a brain from her. She can then put it in your head.” “I don’t have a head” said Jelly, now starting to worry about Compo’s ability to understand jellyfish. “Oh, my goodness, you are amazing!” said Compo. At this Compo started to cry tragic romantic tears. “Doesn’t this just break your heart?” “I don’t have a heart either,” said Jelly wishing she could cheer Compo up. Now for the first time in his life Compo was utterly speechless. He just stood there with his mouth wide open, and with a look of astonishment upon his face. After what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes, Compo composed himself again. 162 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

“There is only one thing for it: you will have to go to hospital.” Jelly didn’t know what a hospital was, but trusted in Compo to do the right thing. They got on the next bus going to the hospital. On the way Compo cheered up a bit. He decided to recite some of his favourite poems to Jelly. “Once I saw a host of golden roses.” went one. “Shall I compare you to a winter’s day” went another. Another talked about, a ”seagull gently rapping, at a chamber door.” One poem had “Hey nonny no” in it! Jelly was very impressed. She had never heard poetry before, and simply fell in love with it. More importantly she began to fall in love with the person reciting the poems! “What a fantastic memory you have, and what a wide range of personalities you present” she said. “Ah, yes,” said Compo dramatically.” If only I had a body to keep them in. At the moment, all they do is wander around: I am as lonely as a hole in the sky.” Just as Compo was speaking, the bus ran over a big bump in the road. Some of the water spilt out of the bucket. “Oh dear, what’s happening?” said Jelly. “Don’t worry, we are at the hospital now. I will carry you up to the children’s ward. They have a huge fish tank in there. You can stay in it until I find the doctor.” Jelly told Compo how grateful she was for his for all his help. “You must be getting tired” she said. “I am a bit” he said. Compo didn’t realise though how tired he really was. He had been carrying Jelly around for a long time and had done an awful lot of talking. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 163

As they travelled through the hospital corridors and lifts, Compo’s memory started to fade. At the beginning of the day he could remember over ”two hundred verses.” Now he could only remember ”ten!“ With every step he took he just got shorter. He became really confused. Things became so difficult he ended up jumbling, rhymes, poems, all sorts of things: very little made any sense. “The owl and the pussy cat went to see, a beautiful pea green goat... Its’y bits’y crocodile walked up the spout... Blah,blah,blah,black bleep... Hay diddle doddle... Humpty had a little lamb... Polly put the cattle on...” Things got even worse. Compo couldn’t control the letters in his imagination. He meant to say” Bo Peep,” but instead said, ”Booooo.”The ”O” rolled away. Then the bottom of a large ”B” fell off, and the ”B” turned into a ”P.” The ”W” fell over and turned into an ”M”. The verses started to wander all over the place. Compo could feel the bucket getting heavier and heavier. At last he found the Children’s ward. He only had a few words left. He staggered in. He could see the fish tank on the table. It was by a large round window. By now he was as short as the bucket. He managed to climb onto a chair, and with his last ounce of strength, poured Jelly into the tank. As he did so, Jelly threw out a long tentacle and pulled Compo into the water. “Splash” 164 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

“bpl pupl blub glug.” said Compo. And with that they both sank down into the warm water. “It’s ok, you are in my world now,” said Jelly. “I will look after you. Close your eyes, your ears, rest your head and curl up with me. Go to sleep. I will carry you until you wake up all refreshed.” Compo fell into a deep sleep. Jelly made a little basket with her tentacles, and cuddling Compo began to drift slowly around in her new world. The tank was very deep, lovely warm and peaceful. There were lots of other fish, and a toy pirate ship that had sunk to the bottom. After a while Jelly drifted to the back of the tank, and behind a large stack of rocks. There at the bottom was a small cave. She was carried in with the flow of the water. It was much larger inside than it looked from the outside. Jelly sat down on a little bed of seaweed, still cradling Compo. After a few hours Compo woke up. “Where am I?” he said. “You are in my new home,” said Jelly releasing him from her cradle. “Wow, this is fantastic.” “How do you feel?” asked Jelly. “I feel great. That was the best sleep I have ever had: thanks Jelly.” Compo looked at Jelly and began to feel very romantic. He realised that no one had ever cared this much about him before. He took hold of one of her tentacles and said: ”Dear Jelly, I have come to realise that I need somebody. I want that body to be yours.” RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 165

Jelly gave a wobble of excitement. “Oh Compo, that would be wonderful. You could live inside me: you could be my personality... lots of personalities. We would make a perfect fit.” “You took the words right out of my mouth.” said Compo. Then Compo feeling even more romantic, knelt down on one knee, and with a dramatic flourish said: “Fair Jelly, your beauty is as boundless as the sea, and my love as deep, the more I give to thee. Will you marry me?” At this Jelly floated off the clump of seaweed and swooning collapsed into Compo’s arms. “I will, l will,” she said. “Oh, what a wonderful future we will have together. We can start a family: we can have lots and lots of Jelly babies!” Compo laughed “I love my new wobbly wife to be.” The next day the two lovers explored the fish tank. They met all of the fish including three goldfish called Clio, Poly and Cilla and a starfish called Urania. They met a very amusing fish called Thalia. She invited Jelly and Compo over to tea. She served inspiration to Compo, and had ice cream with Jelly. The two of them had so much fun together. They were just about to live happily ever after when one evening Jelly said to Compo: “Darling, you know you said we were going to get married!“ “Yes” said Compo paying strict attention. “Well, who is going to marry us?” “Oh, my goodness that’s a good point. Don’t worry I will sort it out.” Compo entered an area of deep reflection at the back of the cave. He thought very very hard. “Who could marry a poem to a jellyfish? Could it be the 166 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

turkey that lives on the hill? No, he only marries owls and pussy cats!” he thought. He was almost ready to give up, when he suddenly got it! “I know!“ he said swimming back to Jelly. “There is only one person in the whole wide world who can marry us.” “Who, who, who?” said Jelly excitedly. “It has to be the author.” “What’s an author?” said Jelly. “An author is someone who writes a story... We are in somebody’s story!” Jelly didn’t understand, but she was happy that Compo had found a way forward. Compo told Jelly his plan to find the author. “Tomorrow morning after the guests have gone, I will become a detective. I will ask everyone in the fish tank if they know the author. Then I’ll ask everyone in the children’s ward. He has to be here somewhere: after all he must have brought us here for a reason?” The next morning Jelly and Compo had some colourful visitors. Two Japanese pygmy seahorses, called Haiku, and Senryu; and a teardrop butterflyfish, called Tanka. They brought gifts of coral and seaweed to decorate the cave. They talked and talked about poetry and marine life. Compo thought they would never go, but by midday they had left. Just before Compo left the cave, he gave Jelly a big kiss and told her not to worry. “I may come home late!“ Jelly waved him goodbye. As he swam off, he called out: RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 167

“Even if the moon like a ghostly galleon, is tossed on a cloudy sea, I will follow her purple ribbon of light, my love, and my heart will come home to thee.” Compo left the cave and began his search. He asked all the fish but had no luck. He asked Drifty the seaweed, and the two old stones Mick and Keith. But he didn’t get any satisfaction there either. He looked in all the seashells: still no luck. He swam down to the pirate ship, hoping to speak to Dilly and Dally, the two tiny, tiny snails that were always playing hide and seek. He only found Dilly though! “Do you know where the author of this story is?”he asked her. “No sorry” she said slowly.” I will look in the little canon for you later. Dally always hides in there. If we find your ‘author’ we will shout “BANG!” as loud as we can.” Compo thanked her and moved on. He left the fish tank and started to ask around the children’s ward. First, he asked the clock that sat on the shelf. But the clock said: “No, I didn’t see him before. I can’t see him now. If I see him in the future, I will ring my bell.” “Thank you” said Compo. Next Compo went to see Teddy, the ward’s teddy bear and Tubbs, the biscuit tin. They both lived in the kitchen. He told them the whole dramatic story about how he had met and fallen in love with a jellyfish. “Crumbs!” said Tubbs. “What a strange set of events. I agree, the author must be here somewhere. Why not try having a chat with the atmosphere?“ “Brilliant idea!” said Teddy. “Err what actually is an ‘atmosphere’... ?” he then asked. 168 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

As he thought this was a good idea, Compo decided to try and explain it to Teddy in a poem. “The atmosphere talks via the look on the wall. The smell in the carpet, the light in the hall, It can jump on your back, or slip off your skin, It all depends on the mood that it’s in.” “That’s not an atmosphere!“ said Tubbs butting in. “An atmosphere is a very unpredictable creature. You have to keep a lid on it. Otherwise it will become ‘frosty’ and hard, then you have to cut it with a knife. The only thing worse than a stale atmosphere, is a tummy full of stale biscuits!” Teddy joined in again. “Now I remember. I thought I had heard that word before : Atmos -spheres are marbles.” “Marbles!“ said Compo “What do you mean?” “What are marbles?” asked Tubbs (the top of his lid popping open). “Marbles are little bubbles of love! People’s heads are full of them. Only sometimes they fall down and get stuck in their throat. When this happens, they can’t speak properly. This happens a lot in my line of work! I enter a room, the heads tilt one way, then everyone says... ‘ Awww.’ I leave: the heads tilt the other way, and I hear, ‘Awww’ again!” “They must be trying to dislodge the marbles,” said Tubbs. Teddy carried on. “People say ‘Awww’, or ‘ooh’, or ‘MWAH!’, when they give me a big kiss: and ’Mmmmm’ when they give me a hug: all because of these mysterious marbles of love.” Teddy carried on with his story. “The other day a visitor took me to a different ward. There RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 169

was a lady sitting in an old armchair. She was very upset, and she was mumbling to herself. I heard the visitor say to someone on his mobile phone: ‘She has completely lost all her marbles!’ Of course, I did my best to help. I sat on the lady’s lap. She gave me a lovely cuddle, and half an hour later she was all right. The nurse gave her a cup of tea. The lady said, ‘thank you.’ So at least I know that one marble made its way back home... She was happy, I was happy, the stranger was happy. Then one of the nurses said to me: ‘Teddy you are great. You always seem to be able to change the atmos-sphere wherever you go!’“ The three of them discussed the atmosphere for a bit longer then in the end decided that: 1. They didn’t really know what one was! 2. They thought it was a good idea to have one. 3. You had to be very, very, very old to understand one... twelve years old at least! 4. That an atmosphere could change you, and that you could change it! 5. It certainly liked chocolate biscuits, but not if they had been trodden into the carpet by a nurse who had lost her marbles. 6. Teddy and Tubbs decided to come back in twelve years’ time to discuss the matter again! “I can’t wait twelve years” said Compo. “I want to get married as soon as possible.” At this point Teddy held out his arms and gave Compo a big hug then said: “Don’t worry when I see the doctor, I will have a quiet word in her ear, and ask if she has any clues as to who this mysterious author is.” 170 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Compo felt reassured at this and began to smile again. “By the way, can I be the best Teddy at your wedding?” Said Teddy. “Can I bring all the biscuits?” said Tubbs. “Of course,” said Compo to both of them. “Who will you ask now?” said Teddy. Compo had a chocolate biscuit, thought for a while then said: “I know!“ “I’ll talk to the children tucked up in their beds, I’ll question the rhymes, and the dreams in their heads, I’ll wake up the bubbles asleep in the soap, I’ll splash in the puddles, and peer through the smoke, I’ll sing to the robin that sits on the broom, I’ll open my heart, to the man in the moon, I’ll swallow my pride, or pour out my shame, I’ll say all that I can, and cannot explain, I’ll burst into tears at the foot of the bed, I’ll tickle its toes, and mop what it said, I’ll scribble and dribble, doodle and drawl, I’ll go round the bend, or climb up a wall, I’ll go out of my mind, and into a fit, In the hope I might find, a whatchamacallit!“ “What do you call it ?”said Teddy now completely confused! “An AUTHOR!“ said Compo now feeling very tired. “What about the nurses, the pills, the grapes and the pop! Why not ask the whole confounded lot?” said Tubbs. “I will, I will,” said Compo (secretly very impressed with Tubbs little rhyme). “Look, I think the night nurse is the cleverest person on the ward. She will know something I’m sure. I’ll keep my lid open tonight. If she says anything helpful, I will let you RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 171

know tomorrow.” said Tubbs now starting to feel tired. Compo thanked his two new friends for their help and left. He was also getting tired again, so he decided to make his way back to Jelly. He left the kitchen and re-entered the ward. It was very late: nearly midnight. The only light, came from a lamp on the nurse’s desk, and the glow of the moon shining through the big round window. All the children were snuggled up in their beds fast asleep. Compo followed the light of the moon back into the fish tank; then swam home into the cave. Jelly was still waiting up for him. “How was your day, Dear? Did you find the author? Did you have any problems? Did you get anything to eat? Are you hungry now? Do you want a drink? Are you tired? I bet you are!” Compo was almost too tired to think. “Everything is fine: don’t worry. No, I didn’t find the author. I will try again tomorrow. My friends are helping. I am sure we will be married within a week or two.”With this Jelly calmed down and stopped asking so many questions. “How was your day?” Compo thought to ask. “Oh, I had a few more visitors. A few goldfish, and a tiny snail playing hide and seek!” “That’s nice,” said Compo, now so tired he was almost on the edge of a dream! “I did do something new though, Dear!” said Jelly, now starting to fall asleep herself. “What was that?” mumbled Compo. “I made a poem!“ she said yawning. “A poem... a poem... I like poems... some of my best friends 172 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

are poems“ said Compo starting to fall off the edge! Jelly just stayed awake long enough, to use one of her tentacles and write her poem in the sand: I drift and drink, You drift and think, Hay nonny no, Where do we go, We drift, We drift... And with that : Compo drifted up into Jelly’s cradle, and Jelly drifted off into Compo’s dream. A curious wave slowly wandered into the cave, It was deep, silent and invisible, It glanced around the rocky walls, Then swept across the floor, It kissed the sand, Stole the poem, And wandered out once more. Epilogue: Back on the ward, the night nurse had come on duty. She was sitting alone sorting through some paperwork. Her desk was in the middle of an avenue of twenty beds; and was located at the opposite end to the ward entrance. It was now one a.m. and time for her break. She went into the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea, and brought it back to the desk, along with the biscuit tin. She opened the lid and took out a chocolate biscuit. She was just about to put it in her mouth, when she noticed RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 173

someone coming into the ward! It was a small rather plump woman. She was wearing a grey uniform. The woman walked over to the fish tank; bent down behind it and picked something up. She walked through the ward, and finally stopped at the nurse’s desk. “Can I help you?” said the nurse, looking puzzled. “It’s very late. I’m sorry we don’t allow visitors at this time of night!” “It’s ok, I haven’t come to visit anyone,” said the lady in a soft voice. “I am the night bus driver, I have just finished my shift. I have just popped in to return some lost property!“ “Lost property?“ said the nurse in an equally soft voice. “Yes! Before I do though, can you tell me, was this supposed to be crumpled up behind the fish tank?” She lifted up a tin bucket and spade. “How on earth did that get there?” exclaimed the nurse. “Well I never! How bizarre! Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I wonder if the lady who cleans the fish tank left it there. I will ask her in the morning.” The nurse carried on. “What was the lost property?” “It’s this.” The bus driver put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a bright shiny golden pen! “Oh! My favourite pen. Where did you find it?” the nurse asked trying not to raise her voice. “I came in to visit my child on your ward the other day. I think you were changing the bed sheets and you put your pen down just as I was picking up my newspaper. I ended up carrying it home by mistake.” The nurse gave a great big smile. 174 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

“Oh, thank you, thank you. This is the pen I use to write my children’s stories with. Now I can finish the one I started the other day.” The bus driver was very impressed. “I would love a pen like that. Did you buy it in the town?” “No: strangely I found it on the beach! It was half hidden in the sand and on the edge of a rock pool.” “What a lucky find” said the bus driver. “Well, I must be going now I have to get the bus back to the garage.” The bus driver turned to go, then stopped and said: “Tell me, where do you get all your ideas from, for the children’s stories?” “Often from the children themselves. They have such vivid imaginations.” The nurse then picked up the biscuit tin. “Would you like the last biscuit before you go?” she asked. “Yes please, thank you.” The bus driver pulled out the last chocolate biscuit. The nurse then leaned over to the bus driver. “Shall I tell you a secret?” she said whispering. “Oh, yes, I do love secrets,” said the bus driver excitedly and looking round to see that no one else was listening. “Well, you know I said I am the author of these stories!” “Yes” “Well sometimes this pen seems to have a mind of its own! I’m sure I don’t know where my ideas come from half the time! Don’t tell anyone though. Otherwise they will put ‘me’ in a hospital ward! Ha-ha!” “Ok” said the bus driver. The bus driver walked off past the beds and out of the ward. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 175

The nurse put the lid back on the biscuit tin. She picked up her golden pen, and with the last ten minutes of her break, scribbled down the end of a story. She then put her note pad and her little dictionary into her handbag. Lastly, she lifted her lovely golden pen to her lips, gave me a big kiss! And clipped me carefully into her top pocket! 176 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

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FROM OUR ALLIES TheWord Association works with other marginalised groups. Here are some poems from participants of our mental health group who are in full support of the LGBT+ community.The following poems are all on the theme of lockdown. ALISON MCINDOE (She/Her) I have always loved words. I am fascinated by the power and magic that lies within them, especially in poetry. Although I have dabbled in writing poems, I have never really dedicated much time to it (beyond the odd poem for my children or a birthday). This is why this course has been so wonderful - to have carved out time weekly to write has been rewarding. It has stretched me as a writer as well as giving me more confidence. I am proud of all the poems I am sharing in this anthology, and I look forward to seeing my writing develop further. I also think that talking about mental health in an honest and relatable way is really important and poems are such a good vehicle for this.When you have suffered from either a manic or depressive episode, or in my case both, then when you are well the experiences about which you write may reach out to someone who are themselves suffering. And it may strike a chord, resonate and, perhaps, provide some needed comfort. Such is the undeniable power of poetry. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 179

Covid-19 Cross-border infiltration Human error exploitation Community transmission Population contamination Handwashing intensification Ever-changing plan of action Petri dish cultivation Protocol strict application Widespread ramification Travelling stagnation Hand shaking prohibition Deep clean sanitization Medical Officer cross-examination Additional funding appropriation Remote patient consultation Sick pay protection Prognosis speculation Fatality confirmation Number of cases multiplication Vulnerable prioritization Anxiety amplification Headline misinformation Hysteria magnification Panic buying exasperation Dramatic escalation Pandemic preparation Contagion Invasion 180 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Shutdown Closed Locked Brought to an end Strictly off limits. Padlocks are clicked Clunked Snapped shut. Shutters descend Clattering Clanking Crashing down. A death knoll Reverberating Echoing Amplifying Emptiness. A darkness engulfs. Sadness Deep and profound. Far-reaching. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 181

Ennui For four weeks Lockdown ebbs, Lockdown flows, Ebbs, Flows, Ebbs, Fl- Until now. Now we’re stuck. Immovable. Succumbed to ennui. Sunlight streams in, The outdoor invite... And yet, Nothing. Pah! We have expired all joie de vivre. No spark, No frisson, Just nothing. And ahead, more of the same. 182 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

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EMMA LORD (She/Her) Emma Lord is a writer and photographer. Her writing focuses on poetry, and short stories. As a photographer, she specialises in animal portraits, and creating fine art. Based inWiltshire, Emma lives with her husband, son, and many rescue animals. Emma uses personal writing and photography projects to help raise awareness of various causes, all of them concerning subjects close to her heart.These include mental health awareness, parenting, and animal welfare. Find out more about Emma at her website: www.sagaciouscatcreative.com And follow her blog at: www.thephotographersway.org RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 185

My Son, The last two years have been the most wonderful of times with you. But the last few weeks have been even more wonderful. Spending the days together, watching you grow, is the way I would choose to pass all of my time. Just you, your dad, and me. Perfect. A darkness looms though. Out of reach at the moment, but edging closer. When we can get out again, there will be so much expectation from people to see you. To hug you and tell you that you’ve grown. To play with you and enjoy the sound of your laughter. I know there are many who love you very dearly, but I’m not ready to return to sharing. Not yet. I dread the end of lockdown, and all the expectation that it brings. If I had stayed home with you all the time before this, people would have thought I was a bad mother. Not letting you experience life beyond home, or socialise. I’m scared though. I’m scared of being released again to return to society. Of being judged for not wanting to do that. I’ve learned that I really am happiest at home without much human contact. And I’ve learnt we have a mountain to climb together once this is over. I love you so much. I hope you understand that I’m not perfect. We will take small steps together. You’re so young, but I still need you to – please – hold my hand. ~ Mama 186 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

The New Normal “New normal” is a strange concept. It’s as though what went before was normal and what is now, is abnormal. Different. I didn’t accept normality as a concept before. So “new normal” is, in fact, a continuation. Lockdown was bordered by hyphens, and punctuated with exclamations. Bold letters, italics. Easing lockdown is a new paragraph. What happens next, is still to be written. It is all part of the perfect continuum of time and life. So “new normal” is a construct which I have no feeling for. All I know is that I keep on going, and my final full stop has yet to come. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 187

When All This Is Over, I Will… Lie down and lose my mind. To dream of open fields, shaded woodland groves, and clear water running in shallow streams. A place where animals run free. Where antelopes and lions move alongside one and other, weaving around grassy knolls as they cross the fields. Companions, neither one the hunter nor the hunted. Birds soar high, touching the wisps of cloud with their wingtips. The eagle flies with the sparrow, the hawk with the dove. I feel the Sun touch my face as I absorb the landscape. Entranced by the beauty, the harmony of many tongues speaking as one. From the song of the robin, to the deep rumble of the tiger as it pads softly past. When all this is over, I will lie down to sleep. 188 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

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MEMOONA AHMED (She/Her) I’m a 20-year-old writer and student from Gloucester! I’m studying full-time for my degree in Experimental Psychology from the University of Oxford, but am writing every minute I can spare. Poetry and mental health are my passions, and you will notice that much of my work focuses on my experiences with anxiety and depression. I hope that one day I can change lives through my writing. Website: https://singingsonnet.gator.site/ RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 191

Outdoor Clothes when all this is over, I will wear outdoor clothes sandals, shoe-boots and heels with peep-toes swishy skirts and summer tones while I go out and revisit the world no more god-awful pyjama co-ords joggers and hoodies back in cupboards we’ll bring back the jeans and the shiny jackets hats and long scarves and silly sunglasses even if it’s to lounge in the lawn I’ll put on eyeshadow and my lashes curl I’ll make dates and appointments to show up smartly clothed. what I wouldn’t give, for one day when we are free from this waking up and thinking with a smile what am I going to wear today? 192 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

Wasting hi girl, how are you doing? saw your tweet and thought I’d pop in life keeps railroading us like we’re toys kids pick up at the store with interest and awe and decide they don’t want after all how’s lockdown life treating you? I’m sinking, feeling, lifting, on shuffle Baking whatever’s in the cupboards I hope he’s not driving you insane! the patience on my tongue is wearing thin so small until I’ll swallow it in once we get out we’re going to LIVE so hard we’ll be dead at 30 but it’ll be alright only so little living to go around no more wasting away at computers on chairs we’ll make it out there this world wasn’t made for being alone and we’ll share what we have ‘til the day we have none. RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS 193

Cover image: Detail from Bound 2 U by Oliver Bliss. This piece is hand woven out of denim, belts, condoms, bondage tape, feathers, chains, flyers, glitter, and other found objects, which I collected down Canal Street, the gay village in Manchester. The piece is deliberately chaotic like a rush of emotions. Entwined are tokens I have collected on Canal Street. The image is supposed to be overwhelming and dominating when the viewer is stood in front of it. This allows the viewer to get lost and absorbed by the built up layers, that are bound together. Some strands are tightly knotted together, aggressively pulled, twisted and contorted whilst others are interlaced loosely. I want people to allow themselves to be drawn into these feelings and form their own relationship with the work. I aim to join a relationship between the physical and emotional nuances. http://oliverbliss.blogspot.com/ 194 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS

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This book is the result of The Word Association’s first Standing Proud writers’ course – six months of weekly writing workshops aimed at the LGBT+ community of Worcestershire and their allies. The project was supported by Worcester City Council and Worcestershire County Council (through St Stephens Ward councillor, Matthew Jenkins) whose generosity allowed us to extend the project in order to help combat the isolation that many suffered as a result of the Covid-19 crisis. This book explores individual’s experiences of lockdown in a collection of poetry and prose. Writing this work has served as a cathartic release for all involved, as well as providing important documentation of a difficult and unusual period of history. Featuring the work of: Nicola Longworth-Cook, Colby Wren Fierek, Chris Cox, Becky Leonard-Dixon, Lydia Sofia, Oliver Bliss, Jay Rose Ana, Elizabeth Joy, Claire G.M Benson, Steve J. Martin, Sophie Ridge, Andrew Gardner and Dawn Wright, with supplementary work by allies of the project: Alison McIndoe, Emma Lord and Memoona Ahmed. The project was coordinated by The Word Association with support from Out2gether. www.the-word-association.com www.facebook.com/Out2gether Cover image: detail from ‘Bound 2 U’ by Oliver Bliss https://oliverbliss.blogspot.com 196 RAINBOWS THROUGH GLASS