To Grow

ANDY HEDGECOCK, ANGUS REID and MARIA DUARTE review Case 137, Deadline, Whalefall, and Forgotten Island by Hanan Issa Gwinllan a roddwyd i’m gofal yw Cymru fy ngwlad, i’w thraddodi i’m plant, ac i blant fy mhlant, yn dreftadaeth dragwyddol. My country of Wales is a vineyard, given into my keeping, to be handed down to my children and my children’s children, as an inheritance for all time.                                                              Saunders Lewis ‘Llan’ is a simple seed. A word for gathering, glade, or garden.  In Wales, the llan of trees or people is sacred. Words variegate,  infused with the contents of Ceridwen’s cauldron,   they interlace like clasped hands and soon those words  till the soil, birth shoots, sting like poison or soothe as antidote. The toil continues and a country stirs. A gardener’s task is the growth of hope, yn dreftadaeth dragwyddol. For Wales’ caretakers, gofalwyr, khulafa that fresh soil beckons — Oh how this garden could bloom! But a poet’s role is to notice: In the summer I saw a bryn sliced in half. One side sat scorched  as the other sulked in sodden green. What new taunting,  of both flame and flood, must we add to our land vocabulary? Caretakers watch for lurking wolves, they wait for a gate left open, to plant their weapons here, yn fy ngwlad. See their gazes drift to cursed seeds scything at Gazan children. Weed them out! But gardeners know the risk, know you can prune too much — Cutting trans healthcare, closing endo centres, such harsh stunting  when brambles of fascism scuttle unchecked across this sanctuary. We say the river has a mouth but ask the aber,  will she smile through cracking lips as her dregs  are slurped up by a datacentre and and and. This poem sounds overgrown now. Planting too much  can cause a clamour, cause vibrant words to lose their colour.  Often we confuse them for clunky hedges, thorny metaphors. Gardeners are the caretakers of hope. Sometimes  fresh-turned soil is mistaken for mud. But beneath it,  your planted bulbs are dreaming — of promise and seasons to come. We hope for Ceridwen’s gift. Hope she scatters her inspiration and knowledge like dew drops across the land. Perhaps Voltaire was right?  Perhaps the garden begins within. But hope is a simple seed.  To grow, it needs tending by those who gather. Hanan Issa is is a Welsh-Iraqi poet, film-maker, scriptwriter and artist. She is the current National Poet of Wales, and the first Muslim to hold this title. To Grow, commissioned for the Senedd’s official opening ceremony on October 15 in the presence of King Charles, was rejected by officials for being “too political.”