Take the next left and continue straight ahead in biblical footsteps, you are four miles too late.
Stop when you find yourself in the arms of three singing beauties, three singing beauties
you have met before. Remember? Or are you too knee buckled for self-assurance?
People like you have a hard time, because you enjoy looking out of windows, contemplating
better ways of living with a tub of kale and home-made granola; but there are men out there
who would spit in your face just to watch your skin become the dew of the hill where you walk.

The hill – where you walk -is the reason you woke up in this journey, this journey is the reason
you must continue down the path, following the cattle call until you find the Prime Minister,
dressed as a cat, sniffing lines of coke with the money you thought you’d lost.
You watch the crisp powder disappear up The Hon’s nostril as if you have been doing it for
years. This is the part when you decide to save the world. Because it feels like the world is
ending, but it’s not your fault is it Love?

Sit for a second. The chase is long and you are right to be tired, but there are families ploughing
fields in your name; fields grown in hope, fields protected by your vision. But hush now, she`s
coming soon, just as the angel on cliff top promised, she will be yours and you will breathe
together, open doors together, and she will make you feel meaningful.

This is Sophie Fenella’s final commissioned poem as Poet in Residence for Fair Field – an initiative run in collaboration between Penned in the Margins and The Poetry School. Read more of Sophie’s poetry and prose responses to Fair Field and Piers Plowman on our blog.