Reader’s Choice: I am Here for You

I am Here for You

by Shirley Muir

There is no car
despite the dense rural dark
and the remote country lane
that meanders through it to the village.

She does not want to impose noise on this tranquil place.
She has feet and they have shoes,
one strong shoulder to sling a bag
(the other is damaged)

And clustered around the green freshly-painted mosque
are food shops with olives and white crumbly cheese
and twenty sorts of nuts.
And always the intoxicating smell of fresh warm bread.

In the shed, the blue bicycle leans patiently
against the grey powdery stone.
In the shadows by the back wall,
with its traffic of mice and spiders
that mate in spring or shelter from winter’s drenching storms,
the bicycle is grimy, oil-less, parched, doleful.

Last year, its moving parts black and lubricated,
it ferried farm eggs, juicy oranges, lush ruby tomatoes
and tiny cucumbers like fat green fingers,
all jumbled in the safety of its capacious basket.

This year it knows that one hand to brake
or one to grip the handlebars
and only one to steer
is not enough
(the other is damaged)

‘Buyurun*’, the bicycle says quietly, waiting,
its basket empty, save for silvery webs
and the droppings of baby mice.
It gathers dust and perhaps rust.
It hopes for her broken wrist to mend,
her frozen shoulder to thaw.

It wishes her walks to the village will become rides
instead of feet plodding the muddy tracks
that in spring are edged with swaying scarlet poppies
for bicycles and riders to admire slowly.

It hopes she will smile at the squadron of snails sliming over gravel after rain
or peek at an alert lizard basking, head lifted in brightness
near a handy chink in a wall.

In summer these gentle winding ways waft with the wings
of yellow, white and orange butterflies,
Tiger moths, buzzing honeybees and dragonflies.
The blue bicycle knows these things.

But today she walks past the shed
and trudges into the village,
her bag slung over the good shoulder.
‘Buyurun’, the bicycle whispers,
and its little bell tinkles in the gloom.

*Buyurun is Turkish for ‘Can I help you? I am here.’

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Shirley Muir is a molecular biologist, tarot reader and student of Turkish. She spends some of her time in Turkey.

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Our Reader said:

I liked the rich and subtle use of language and the gentle poignant feelings the poem conjured up.