These are the words of a song I wrote just after hearing of the
untimely death of my friend, Roger Deakin, in 2006. Roger was a genuine and
unselfconscious eccentric; a wonderful writer, documentary-maker,
environmentalist and co-founder of Common
Ground, whose wild-swimming journal, Waterlog,
became a UK best-seller. Two other books, Wildwood
and Notes from Walnut Tree Farm, were
published posthumously. One of the great nature writers of our generation, he
always encouraged my own writing and his books are still a continuous source of
joy and inspiration.
The
Swimmer
It was one of those moments when you feel the earth turning.
A
three-quarter moon in a clear autumn sky
Brought into
my heart a curious yearning
For things
that have passed and have yet to pass by;
For friends
who have gone and for those still remaining;
While the
river of life still winds through the land,
Whose
secrets, revealed by the long years’ waning,
Can slip
through our fingers or be grasped in our hands.
There’s a
feeling that time is not of the essence;
Not a fear of
the future or delight in the past,
Just a space
that is filled by a friend when his presence,
Is replaced
by the pleasure of what he has left.
Now the
spirits of the earth rise to embrace the giver
Like the
low-lying mist of a soft autumn dawn,
And the
swimmer goes down once again to the river,
Where, as sun
glints on water, the dream is reborn.
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