Poetry review – LOVE THE ALBATROSS: Pat Edwards reflects on the importance of exploring painful situations as honestly as Deborah Harvey’s collection does
Love the Albatross
Deborah Harvey
Indigo Dreams Publishing
ISBN 978-1-912876-85-3
£11
When we consider the albatross, we probably think of an endangered species, a bird with a huge wingspan, which can represent the burden of carrying a large physical or emotional load. We may even recall The Rime of the Ancient Mariner with its theme of the beauty and innocence of creation. All these thoughts may be at play as we read this cleverly crafted collection.
The opening poem, which stands alone from the three separate sections that follow, depicts an albatross crash-landing in a dream. It is a startling, troubling poem which speaks of ‘a wreckage’, ‘the wound’, and perhaps most worryingly, of something not to be discussed now but ‘later’. The reader wonders why, why not straight away, what are we getting into here?
When we embark on the three main sections of the collection it’s not long before we start to gather clues of loss and hurt, of distance, but also of love. The writing style often includes run-ons with a distinct lack of punctuation as if to create breathlessness. In “No protocols”, there is a birth, ‘they cut the cord/and whisked you away…I held onto you tightly.’ But something clearly changes, ‘on the second occasion it was you in charge of the scissors/and somehow you forgot to grab me.’
The absence of the grown child is central in “Thirteen ways to leave your mother.” The poet imagines normal mother/daughter scenarios, but each is ruined by the child leaving abruptly or putting up barriers so that the mother is excluded. The mother is haunted by this, heartbroken, feels ‘a widening gulf’ and speculates. There is powerful use of bird imagery throughout. In the last poem of this section, “Once we were birds”, the idea that ‘swifts return/writing their journey over the sky’ depicts the great sadness that this mother still feels, ‘her longing [to] fly to greet them.’
Part II continues the bird imagery, drawing on a range of creatures flying, threatening, journeying, calling. The poems are often longing for what cannot be and hoping ‘that nothing we leave behind us/is gone forever.’ There is doubt too, as in “Small hours”, where the poet asks is it
just me who waits alone
longing for words that stay unspoken
love that won’t be shown.
The loneliness is palpable in these poems,. Sometimes it even wears down the reader who has to persevere and endure. I was particularly drawn to the poem “When I opened the cage of my fingers to let you fly”. Written ironically in couplets, the poet speaks of waiting for the return of a fledgling bird, of her arm outstretched just in case the bird needs ‘a perching place’, but of the ‘fly-/pasts’ coming to a stop, leaving her with ‘the steady drip of loss.’ In the next poem “Subsong”, the parents ‘consider the ways/they might have done things better.’
At one point there is even therapy but it doesn’t seem helpful; is examining our relationships with our own mothers the answer? In “Heart failure”, the poet wonders if ‘at some unspecified point in the future’
when you find yourself
face-to-face with a box of tissues and
someone who listens
there might be closure.
In Part III the poet suggests that writing can be an alternative form of therapy but poems are
battering their heads against the glass, as
If they might break in, as if they’ve come back to bite her.
With all the time that has passed, questions have ‘piled up in drifts, an endless / snowfield smothering every struggling answer.’
This lingering, all-encompassing grief is likened to ‘radio silence’ that tells you ‘you’ve only yourself to blame.’ At other times it’s a dog, ‘you stretch out your hand to ruffle its fur.’ The story behind these poems remains incomplete, there is no respite from the speculation and wondering. In “Or is hope the albatross?” the poet concludes
the weight of hope
around your neck
risks dragging you down with its blather,
its failure to deliver
People even tell her this kind of estrangement is ‘worse than your child/being dead.’
This collection is not an easy read. The subject matter is bleak and relentless; like the albatross of the title, the poems burden the reader. There is something very real about this, very honest; sometimes there are no answers, no sunlit uplands. I admire the bravery of writing that offers no resolution because sometimes life is like that. I often talk about poetry ‘doing its job’. Sometimes that may be to reflect the joy and beauty of the world, or it may be to explore, to enlighten, to challenge. In this collection, there is no apology for the darkness – it is necessary, integral, unavoidable, as the poet shows us aspects of relationships we only know from a distance, as hearsay…if we are lucky.
I have found myself thinking about these poems long after reading them and after having conversations with people close to me about the themes And I keep coming back to two questions. What is it that leads to family estrangements? How, if ever, do they get resolved? When do you give up on the person who wants nothing to do with you, despite the strong ties that inevitably draw you and compel you to keep trying? These are complex issues which impact lives and cause deep hurt. If this collection raises awareness and helps anyone going through trying times to see they’re not alone, maybe some good will have been accomplished.
Sep 9 2024
London Grip Poetry Review – Deborah Harvey
Poetry review – LOVE THE ALBATROSS: Pat Edwards reflects on the importance of exploring painful situations as honestly as Deborah Harvey’s collection does
When we consider the albatross, we probably think of an endangered species, a bird with a huge wingspan, which can represent the burden of carrying a large physical or emotional load. We may even recall The Rime of the Ancient Mariner with its theme of the beauty and innocence of creation. All these thoughts may be at play as we read this cleverly crafted collection.
The opening poem, which stands alone from the three separate sections that follow, depicts an albatross crash-landing in a dream. It is a startling, troubling poem which speaks of ‘a wreckage’, ‘the wound’, and perhaps most worryingly, of something not to be discussed now but ‘later’. The reader wonders why, why not straight away, what are we getting into here?
When we embark on the three main sections of the collection it’s not long before we start to gather clues of loss and hurt, of distance, but also of love. The writing style often includes run-ons with a distinct lack of punctuation as if to create breathlessness. In “No protocols”, there is a birth, ‘they cut the cord/and whisked you away…I held onto you tightly.’ But something clearly changes, ‘on the second occasion it was you in charge of the scissors/and somehow you forgot to grab me.’
The absence of the grown child is central in “Thirteen ways to leave your mother.” The poet imagines normal mother/daughter scenarios, but each is ruined by the child leaving abruptly or putting up barriers so that the mother is excluded. The mother is haunted by this, heartbroken, feels ‘a widening gulf’ and speculates. There is powerful use of bird imagery throughout. In the last poem of this section, “Once we were birds”, the idea that ‘swifts return/writing their journey over the sky’ depicts the great sadness that this mother still feels, ‘her longing [to] fly to greet them.’
Part II continues the bird imagery, drawing on a range of creatures flying, threatening, journeying, calling. The poems are often longing for what cannot be and hoping ‘that nothing we leave behind us/is gone forever.’ There is doubt too, as in “Small hours”, where the poet asks is it
The loneliness is palpable in these poems,. Sometimes it even wears down the reader who has to persevere and endure. I was particularly drawn to the poem “When I opened the cage of my fingers to let you fly”. Written ironically in couplets, the poet speaks of waiting for the return of a fledgling bird, of her arm outstretched just in case the bird needs ‘a perching place’, but of the ‘fly-/pasts’ coming to a stop, leaving her with ‘the steady drip of loss.’ In the next poem “Subsong”, the parents ‘consider the ways/they might have done things better.’
At one point there is even therapy but it doesn’t seem helpful; is examining our relationships with our own mothers the answer? In “Heart failure”, the poet wonders if ‘at some unspecified point in the future’
there might be closure.
In Part III the poet suggests that writing can be an alternative form of therapy but poems are
With all the time that has passed, questions have ‘piled up in drifts, an endless / snowfield smothering every struggling answer.’
This lingering, all-encompassing grief is likened to ‘radio silence’ that tells you ‘you’ve only yourself to blame.’ At other times it’s a dog, ‘you stretch out your hand to ruffle its fur.’ The story behind these poems remains incomplete, there is no respite from the speculation and wondering. In “Or is hope the albatross?” the poet concludes
People even tell her this kind of estrangement is ‘worse than your child/being dead.’
This collection is not an easy read. The subject matter is bleak and relentless; like the albatross of the title, the poems burden the reader. There is something very real about this, very honest; sometimes there are no answers, no sunlit uplands. I admire the bravery of writing that offers no resolution because sometimes life is like that. I often talk about poetry ‘doing its job’. Sometimes that may be to reflect the joy and beauty of the world, or it may be to explore, to enlighten, to challenge. In this collection, there is no apology for the darkness – it is necessary, integral, unavoidable, as the poet shows us aspects of relationships we only know from a distance, as hearsay…if we are lucky.
I have found myself thinking about these poems long after reading them and after having conversations with people close to me about the themes And I keep coming back to two questions. What is it that leads to family estrangements? How, if ever, do they get resolved? When do you give up on the person who wants nothing to do with you, despite the strong ties that inevitably draw you and compel you to keep trying? These are complex issues which impact lives and cause deep hurt. If this collection raises awareness and helps anyone going through trying times to see they’re not alone, maybe some good will have been accomplished.