Dreams take flight

Eastern curlews migrate from the northern hemisphere to Western Port. Photo: David Adam

​By Etsuko Yasunaga
 
IT WAS June, around the winter solstice. Like so many things that happened in the last two years, I can’t exactly recall which phases of the lockdowns we were in at that time. Regional Victoria may have had relative freedom but our annual holiday to the Far North wasn’t going to happen yet again. I was walking alone on the beach under the cloudy sky. The air on my face was bitterly cold. I strode against the headwind with my head down, as if I needed more hardship to prove my resilience. Then I caught a swift movement in my peripheral vision. I looked up the sky, and here it was – a migratory bird of some sort. It wasn’t a big bird but her flight was strong. I could sense the determination of this little creature to reach her destination somewhere far away. Suddenly the image of me flying away as a bird was conjured in my mind, and the theme of my first French poem was set firmly.

We just studied the “conditional mood” in French so I tried to incorporate this in my poem to express the subtlety of my feeling. I looked up many words I didn’t know in French in my dictionary, and kept my expression simple. Instead of using complicated structures, I emphasised the intensity of my feeling by repetition. Ultimately my feeling was universal, especially in the global burden of suffering from Covid for so long. I was confident that everyone would understand my strong sentiment even with my limited French.
 
Word by word, sentence by sentence I continued to compose my poem in my third language. The intensity of my emotion surprised me. I realised I had buried the acute pining simply because it was too much to bear. The process of composing a poem allowed me to open the floodgate to my deepest yearning. I felt I finally had a permission to feel and express the feeling which was kept under control for a long time. Once it opened, the longing flowed with ferocity, and continued to intensify. I let it deluge and let it wash over me. At last I could sit with my feeling comfortably. I quietly acknowledged that, like everyone else in the world, I also suffered significantly.

Etsuko expresses the grief of separation from loved ones.

At the recent French Christmas gathering, we received very special gift. Our teacher Bernadette compiled a book of our poems and gave a copy to each of us. We took turns to recite our own poems in French. My poem was fairly long hence the writing on the page was quite small. Unfortunately I forgot my reading glasses on that day, so I sometimes struggled to read every word properly. As soon as I started reading I was transformed to that winter day at the beach when I first conceived the idea. My helplessness and yearning rekindled.  I kept on reading. They were my feelings and my words. They belonged to me. No one else could express them in the way I did, even in a different language. Yet, I also knew that what I expressed belonged to all sentient beings.

​Every word was destined toward expressing the intense pining for my mother. I had a lump in my throat when I reached the words ‘but I’m not a bird, I can’t fly’. I wept. I felt the warm touch of my friend’s comforting hand on my left shoulder, and I heard her voice in my mind. “It’s OK Etsuko, it’s OK.” Bernadette was crying and I saw tears of empathy from fellow students. I took a deep breath then finished reciting my poem. I never felt so safe and protected. I felt everyone’s caring hearts in that instance and I was so glad that I have expressed my innermost feeling and shared it amongst my dearest friends.
 
I’ve translated my poem to English.

If I could
​
If I could I would turn into a bird
A little beautiful bird with powerful wings
So that I can fly long distances
 
If I could I would fly like a little bird
I would fly over Australia, cross the equator, to the northern hemisphere
I would reach Japan where my dear mum lives
 
I'll find her home and perch on her window sill
I would sing a beautiful song for my mum
So that she notices me among the other birds
 
She would speak to me with her soft and gentle voice
Where do you come from? You must have travelled a long way
She would feed me grains of rice and vegetables
 
I would eat grains of rice with my little beak
I would keep singing for her
I would look at her with nostalgia
 
I would cherish the precious moments with my dear mum
Even though she doesn't know it's me
Because I would be with her finally
 
Anytime, soon
I will fly to my dear mum
But I'm not a bird, I can't fly
 
If I could I would turn into a bird
A little beautiful bird with powerful wings
So that I can fly away to see my dear mum​

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