In the forest next the trees

Words by Katie Colombus, Music by Laura Reid. Soprano Gweneth Ann Rand, Piano Allyson Devenish. Katie Colombus is the author of How to Listen and Pathways (Hachette) and has an extensive background in arts and wellbeing journalism. She creates interdisciplinary work with dancers and musicians and recently graduated with distinction from the MA in Writing Poetry at The Poetry School, London. She has had poems published in The Frogmore Press, ROSA Magazine, Dance Art Journal and Glyn Maxwell’s Dark Canadee, and was longlisted for the Fish Prize for Poetry. She was commissioned by the Royal Opera House to create libretto for a micro-opera festival for International Women’s Day.

"I remember when Julie first told us she was ill and that at some point in the near future she wouldn't be here anymore, and it felt like it was going to be so hard. But she took control and made it the best possible ending of her time here, and that helped all the family in so many ways. She often talked about "the next adventure on the other side of the universe"; we went shopping for the brightest, most colourful dress we could find to wear at her funeral; she wrote letters and boxed up gifts for the future, and it all somehow softened the journey. Before she died we went travelling - we saw whales and dolphins, swam in the sea, hiked hills, walked in forests, and we all appreciated every moment, acutely aware of how precious that time was. It was in Kaikoura, New Zealand, that I had this dream about Julie being able to communicate with the whales in a secret language. It is my hope that this work will keep beautiful memories of a very special person alive."

In the Forest Next the Sea

Birdsong unravels in cloud,      hills and myths move with time, slowly around edifice of softening ground.

Evening curves in and out        of dappled light, warm winds drape over the hard grey leaves of trembling poplar trees,

owls dark on perches, still in shadow patches,        one crying twit, the other replying twoo – I never knew that the call meant there were two.

Sweet magnolia hangs heavy, falls soft        to forest floor, leaving leaves like silken skirts that whirl at my ankles as I walk.

Black pupils of night close in        on an island dream where whales sing in language understood by only you.

Copyright Katie Colombus 2023