I am Olwen. I make the plants grow;
where I walk,
where I touch,
where I laugh.
But today I was told
‘Your services are no longer required’.
‘There have been some funding cuts and we’ve had to remove some roles that were found to be non profitable’.
The next day all the bees died.
I took myself to the seedbank on Svalbard
Algal blooms spreading beneath my feet as I trod waves to wait…
They Came, soon, in deperation.
The earth dry, shops empty
All of them starving.
I smile a forget-me-not smile
and raise an eyebrow
squatting in the squalid concrete.
The fallen ones, the stupid ones
I say ‘I will act on one condition.’
‘We take all the walls down.
And rip up all the roads.
Use seeds as currency.
would be sensible.’
In Welsh mythology Olwen was sometimes remembered as a deity of vegetation; (her ancestry was from an earth mother goddess) everywhere she walked flowers grew in her footprints…
Poem by Katja Warren Wild.