“I chose this poem as a representation of immediate trauma – this experience is obviously very fresh in the mind of the poet and the way that she took refuge in nature to survive is nicely expressed. I especially liked the last stanza.” – Jane Burn, guest editor
Some Of The Things I Was In 2019
On the day
after St. David’s Day
I was white to the lips.
Perhaps birds sang
and daffodils shimmied
but I don’t remember.
I was the luck of the draw,
the throw of the dice,
the toss of the coin.
I was a rag doll
flopped in a van
marked Ambulance/Ambiwlans.
It slowed down
at speed bumps
so I wouldn’t be jolted.
The sky embraced me
and the moon sorrowed,
o-ed a sisterly prayer.
A nurse needled blood
from my arm
and a doctor warned
of low salt levels.
I was a lost ocean
on a bed of razor shells.
Rain pattered
across the hospital roof.
Liquid magnesium
and potassium
dripped into my veins
and flowed around my body.
I was a monochrome
ordnance survey map,
waited for my rivers
and streams and tributaries
to light up red and shine
through the night’s starless dark.
Sheila Jacob was born and raised in Birmingham, and lives with her husband in N. Wales. She resumed writing poetry in 2013 after a long absence. She’s had poems published in Sarasvati, Reach Poetry, The Dawntreader, The Cannon’s Mouth, Clear Poetry and The Blue Nib, amongst others, and on various webzines including Atrium and The Poetry Village. In March 2019 she self-published a chapbook of poems Through My Father’s Eyes. The poems form a tribute to her father and his working-class upbringing in Birmingham.
Celebrating Change 