Literature and Poetry
(Letteratura e poesia)
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Cliccate qui per l'italiano   On the birth of my first grandchild by Marion Porreca.   It is so strange - a rare and unusual feeling, Encapsulating, engulfing, empowering all; In trying to recapture what another felt, 33 long years ago ….                I feel myself enmeshed in the web of time. No pause for reflection, so intense and burning is the pressure to know, How did my Mother feel, then, I wonder? Whilst at the same time I thoughtfully ponder This overwhelming love, which I feel, now.   When our first grandchild is delivered to us, as a fait accomplis, What mystical pathways open up before us, Letting in vistas of dreams that emerge, Like shafts of brilliance from the seeds of time? To me it is like a dazzling stream of brightness, Illuminating the timeless flow of the population. There she lies, all sweetness and health, A radiance, a gift, her motivation Embodies the all-inspiring glory of what is to be, Wealth directly extracted from the promise of peoples from times of yore. Her adorable face is a shining example, glistening and glowing, in anticipation, Showing how family likenesses emerge, reflections of those gone before, Having evolved from some magical place, partway betwixt love and inspiration; Forces from deepest antiquity having blended with the nearest generation, A melded intermingling of primordial, primitive, positive powers, Not just a way forwards, more a shining beacon.   Her parents have formed her, Yet she is she. Silvana. Herself. Unique.   Lightness, glory, quintessential gentleness, A blossoming, way above the imperfections of the human race, My darling granddaughter, Silvana Lucia Porreca. What more perfect model to fulfil all expectations? What more splendid chance for our aspirations, For the next assemblage to continue, glorify, bring forth the bounty, Persistence of that stock, our descent from all generations?   Progeny issues from proud parentage, ensuring    Past … meets present … meets future…. It is three hundred years since Agostino[1] was born, He, who lived in his 1750’s post-renaissance hilltop domain, Could never have foreseen precisely this beauty, This incandescent goodness, this marvellous masterpiece,   That was to spring forth from his being, all those years distant, Continuing thus onwards the direct lineage from his ancestors Who lived and loved for so many lifetimes even before his own was foretold. The wonders of nature, Silvana, a marvel, awesome to behold.   My Mother, seventh child of a seventh child, though gifted with second sight, Could never have predicted that this particular little bundle of joyous being  Would also have transported her essence into Tomorrow’s World[2].   Who knows where Silvana will go? Who can tell where her prospects lie? For now, all we can see is her little beaming face, That first smile, lighting up my universe, her grandmother’s delight …                Just as James’s first smile filled my Mother’s consciousness with light ….   Silvana links what went before with what is still to come, Her soul, her being, her yesterday, her tomorrow Combine, coalesce and fuse, forming as one. I love her completely, Precisely as my Mother loved her first grandchild, Silvana’s father, my own son James.   How thrilling this feeling of happiness, of perfection, of enchantment. What a magnificent blessing a grandchild is … she brings, she connects, she shapes, She moulds and she is moulded! Her history takes her forwards; her roots extend beyond today; She carries our hopes, our desires … she is our very destiny.   Thus, perhaps it was due to more than some strange, quirky finger of fate That, exactly on my return from my first visit to Silvana, Just at the moment when my train drew in to my hometown station, A huge, elaborate firework display, set to music, blazoned out, Performing fantastic dances in the skies above, With signs and symbols of deep significance, Intense flashes cajoling, frolicking, cavorting, Brief luminescent flares of stars and circles, coloured balls flying, Sparkles discharging vivid squeals, squiggles and squares, Bombastic explosions of coloured designs, crowds shout, Punctuating the night-time with elaborate proclamation    “Silvana is here” My granddaughter is born!?!     Coincidences happen, Today after all is Poppy Day[3], Remembrance Sunday[4]; So, could these fireworks be an indication of that fusion                The before … the now … the hereafter … An intermingling within the sands of time?       Written for Silvana after our first meeting, when she was only 1 month old. 12th November, 2006.     Author’s Notes[5]: [1] Agostino Porreca born 1712 in Montenerodomo, Abruzzo, Italy - a direct ancestor of James - through 7 generations.  [2] Tomorrow’s World - an English BBC TV programme that ran from 1965 to 2002 presenting a broad selection of new inventions and developing technologies, from the important to the most trivial, via studio demonstrations and films. Putting the emphasis firmly on what Singer called the "gee whiz factor" of science and technology, the programme's style was positive and optimistic about technology, in tune with the prevailing mood of the times. My family always loved to watch it.  [3]  Poppy Day – when we commemorate those who fell in both World Wars; a red poppy is the symbol of the British Legion, a charitable society that looks after servicemen and their families; the red poppy was chosen because it is a reminder of the poppies that grow on the battlefields in Northern France, especially at Flanders.           [4]  Remembrance Sunday – the day on which memorial services are held throughout the United   Kingdom, in memory of those who died in War.           [5]  Thanks – Grandma Marion thanks both Mirella Piccone and Silvana De Rosa for the much appreciated help they gave in correcting the translation into Italian.

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