I’ve loved working as a community poet for over a decade now; taking poetry and the spoken word into communities across Wales; encouraging others to find their creative voice. It’s a rewarding and challenging role and one that I’ll continue as we begin the transition into living in a van this autumn/winter. I truly believe that engaging with our creative potential is the future for our communities – this is how we find the empathy and emotional intelligence to heal ourselves, and each other. But I’ve also come to understand that this cannot happen without a deep relationship with the land – and living in the van offers a connection that I cannot maintain when living in a house. More about this is on our TheAbsurdTravels Instagram page or the blog theabsurd.co.uk. 

TheAbsurd began life as an alternative online culture magazine for north Wales which then evolved into regular nights of spoken word and music. We’ve kept this name because TheAbsurd, in all its guises, has always been a way for us create meaning in our lives and keep the existential angst at bay.

Returning to this poem – I cannot stop writing about water at the moment, in all her guises. Dŵr (Cymraeg for water, pronounced d-oo-rr) is an increasingly precious resource, and the need to connect with her is becoming more pronounced. We are around 70% water – sometimes I wonder if I could dissipate like a cloud.

The new poetry collection, Rebel Sun, is an exploration of the community work, the need to reconnect with the elements, and the letting go of other aspects of life. It’s out with Parthian Books later in May. We’re launching it as part of the Wales/India project Hay Festival on 31st. This photo is of the river in The Sundarbans, a huge UNESCO protected mangrove forest in the Bengali region of India which I was lucky enough to visit as part of the cultural exchange earlier this year. The disappearing (a manifesto) opens the collection. You can pre-order a copy of Rebel Sun on Parthian’s website here.