Letters of Love in a Time of Crisis
Letters to the earth from the Donmar Local Company
Today, on Earth Day 2020, we are proud to support Letters to the Earth ‘Letters of Love in a Time of Crisis’. This online event is part of Letters to the Earth’s 1st anniversary celebrations and comes as a response to the current crisis — the global pandemic. In these moments of separation, stillness and unknown, Letters to the Earth is an opportunity to reconnect and for a new story to emerge.
Letters have come from Nigerian novelist and poet Ben Okri, Indian poet Amlanjyoti Goswamiwriter, journalist and playwright Juliet Gilkes Romero, philosopher Rupert Read, Palestinian poet Ashraf Fayadh and Christopher Bailey, Arts & Health Lead World Health Organisation. With the support of the Donmar Warehouse, over 50 letters will be voiced throughout the day by a global community of readers including actors Alison Steadman and Adam Bakri throughout the day. Visit the website to watch the films.
Our Artistic Director, Michael Longhurst said “I’m proud that the Donmar Warehouse is supporting Letters to the Earth at this moment. I found their first call out for letters to a planet in climate crisis, last year, deeply moving. That they’re reigniting their artistic campaign right now feels essential — using writing and performance to help us collectively reflect, share and perhaps even heal at this new time of global uncertainty. The urgent need for both social justice and climate justice has never felt more acute and these beautiful Letters to the Earth give that urgency voice. My thanks to some of our artists and local company, who would otherwise be on our stages in the coming weeks, who have been able to contribute to this project.”
Members of our Donmar Local Company have created the letters below in response to the invitation to write a letter of response in this crisis.
My Letter to Earth.
By Victoria Valcheva
A messenger came wiggling in the grass,
making his way in a collected and decisive manner
over and under dry and green leaves
until he reached my toe and climbed on to my toenail
painted in pink, now covered wit dozens little legs.
The journey from my toe to my knee seemed easier and I was relieved.
I didn’t want to undermine the fella and I let him reach this page of my notebook so that he could deliver your long waited proposition.
It was short and precise.
Before I knew it, he began descending down the slope,
back in the pool of green wonder.
Thank you.
The truth is, I thought I knew you well.
Your laughter and cry,
collisions and explosions, wonder, knowledge, vulnerability.
You showed me what colours you are.
Your surface I touched and assumed I knew every curve and edge.
But this whole time, you reflected me,
or rather what I was seeing was me in the water.
Me in the holes I pierced in your mud.
Me on the grass and my shadow you grounded.
Me and my toes with my pink nail polish.
Me when I plucked the flowers from your hands to put in a vase and let them die there.
I apologise for being so greedy, for not seeing beyond the boundaries of own shadow.
For allowing others to corrupt you when I looked away so often,
seemingly distracted by those who did not give or love like you.
I accept, I was selfish.
I have a lot to learn from you.
Teach me.
Tell me how to listen.
How to love and dance with you uncontrollably like no one is watching.
How to breathe your sweet airs and follow you,
meet all your friends and protect you because,
I love you too my dear.
Accept my tear and always hold me near.
I am learning to listen patiently while you carry me on this journey through eternity.
Dear Mother Earth
By Paul Ringo
Dear Mother Earth,
I can hear the birds singing
I can see the blue sky
I can see the stars crystal and shining brightly
I can smell the air, the freshness
I can smell and see the morning dew
I notice the spring flowers blooming
I notice the tiny insects crawling, carrying on with their activities, as they should, with no care.
I notice Mother Earth, my body, every part, every joint, every thought, each minute, I am aware!
Dear Mother Earth,
I hear the howling and cries of Death
I see the pain in people faces yet trying to put brave faces.
I see the fear and the uncertainty
I see the regret and retrospective thoughts
I see a special affinity for each other but we have to keep our distance.
I see suddenly empathy!
I see someone’s eyes
I see greed and exploitation
I see cynicism of the worst kind spewed in fear and terror
Mother Earth
Do we get a second chance or that’s it!
Do we get to write the wrong of the past and work together Us one.
Do we get a chance to keep the birds singing and skies blue and the air crisp
Do we get a chance maintain the natural order of things, our forest, animals, our very soil, our oceans, our mountains
Do we get a chance to love one another and to appreciate each other
Mother Earth we are all connected, help us heal and learn. Give Us another chance!
Dear You
By Ubah Egal Mullon (Ubah Egal), Ibrahim Mullon aged 13 and Sabrine Mullon aged 9.
Dear You,
Thank you for your letter, I appreciate you saying this letter is from one mother to another, not everyone sees me as a one, though, some do call me “Mother Earth” for fun. I felt your letter needed a quick response and as you are all on a global lockdown, now is as good a time as any to reply. It is one of the most beautiful things in life to see your children and loved ones grow and become independent people in the universe. But like all parents it is hard to notice when our love and unconditional help and support becomes a problem (global warming). You see, parents can sometimes give too much to their children, making them feel anything is possible. Like you, I have always been a mother who gives her all to her children, a lovely home, lakes, rivers, seas, land, trees and clean air. All the ingredients needed to develop them into the the kind of adults we imagine they will become.
I suppose I thought the life lessons I taught them would bare fruit and be evident when they grew up. But in reality, like most busy mothers I didn’t notice that perhaps those lessons were lost on them. You see my children; I have a lot of children, have taken a lot from me and on reflection, they have not really thought about where those resources came from, or how hard it was for me to balance the ecosystems that allowed them to flourish.
Now I see this very horrible illness has stopped my children in their tracks across the world, it has scared them and taken many beautiful souls away. I want you to know that I love you all and never wanted this to happen. I seeing you all come together to find solutions, it has made me a proud mother, so don’t worry You, though you feel your own children are neglecting you or not heeding your warnings and lessons, they are because when the most challenging times come, they show you, they absolutely learnt from their mother.
They pull together as siblings should, this lockdown across the world has shown just how resilient our children can be, they are answering the call to help, be they cleaners, delivery drivers, nurses, doctors, care workers or any other person who does a job that keeps society working. They continue to answered that call. No matter what. I also noticed that even those who are not key workers are doing their part to keep each other safe and that couldn’t make me prouder.
So to answer your question, I love unconditionally and know that my very large family can sometimes be more dramatic than your average thriller, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are all my children and this planet is your home. That said, won’t lie, I am sad to see my children not recognise that Covid-19 spreads between you all, so you must stay home to keep everyone else safe. I am sad that it took this for some of you to realise your lifestyles, such as using cars too much, working in industries that rely on fossil fuels which choke the goodness out of air my trees and plants provide for you. Covid-19 has taken many lives and caused grief and sadness to you all. I know you are scared, but be aware that the way you have come together to be one family across the world and have laughed, danced and shared music and song to overcome the boredom and sadness of isolation makes me more confident that when this passes, you will all help me to over come climate change, because I need you and without you, I will not survive.
Yours Truly,
Mother Earth.
LOCKED DOWN, LOCKED OUT
By Martin Fisher
The following piece is two interwoven monologues, intended as one solid prose piece. I imagined it performed by one voice adopting two different tones.
My WhatsApp message (in bold) predated this composition. It remains unedited. The audience was 24 fellow, furloughed cast members. It is caring and deliberately cheery but with a careful undertone so as not to offend anyone who might be more seriously affected than I. The angry voice juxtaposed underneath (in italics) is pleading to the human race.
LOCKDOWN — Week 3
6th April 2020, and I checked up on 24 fellow cast members of The Local Company, of Donmar Warehouse Theatre. As a psychotherapist, closely looking out for each other is something about the Coronavirus lockdown that I like.
LOCKOUT — Year 3
In October 2018 we were told we had 12 years before global warming would run out of control. The climate crisis has since been locked out of realpolitik by Brexit, nationalism and now, the global Coronavirus crisis.
I’m checking that you’re all okay.
I’m your host.
Week 3 of lockdown
3½ billion years…
and I’m safe and well.
…now life’s dying.
I’ve so far avoided catching the virus
I’m choking.
although many I know have had it,
I’ve had it.
no close friends or relatives have been seriously ill.
Fifty fucking extinctions, each week,
If anything, my lifestyle is more relaxed than normal,
burned out, bleached out, broken,
which I’m enjoying.
unenduring.
I’ve never been a morning person
Wake up.
so being entitled to sleep an extra hour if I want is delicious.
You act entitled,
I’m cooking my own meals more than usual
burning fuel,
and there’s plenty of fresh foods to be bought locally.
consuming all.
I don’t have a TV
The IPCC
so, to pass free time indoors
said there’s no time to lose.
I’m learning to juggle.
Yet three years later, the jungle’s burning,
I’m able to work remotely from home
climate justice furloughed, locked out
and I can walk around the perimeter of Primrose Hill for exercise.
by a pandemic of nationalism but see:
It’s 1.5 miles per circuit.
the limit is 1.5 degrees.
On my last walk I was musing on the different qualities of lock-down, lock-up, lock-in and lock-out.
So, look up! Lock on:
I used to enjoy a lock-in, in the Horse & Groom.
I used to be your host.
In 😷 fellowship with you all. 💋
From now, I’m your dependent.
Intensive Care
By Karen Walkden
Breathe in through your nose
Hold it
Two, three, four, five
Breathe in through your mouth
Two three four five
Breathe in Kemptown Mutual Aid group
Hold on
Meal deliveries, washing taken in, shopping for vulnerable neighbours, sewing hospital scrubs from duvet covers and pillowcases
Breath out panic, cancelled gigs, lost livelihoods, Universal Credit
Breathe in Care Workers
Hold them close
Travelling to my son’s home on empty buses, wearing PPE, reassuring him, making sense of a world that is suddenly more autistic than he is
Breathe out avoidance of eye contact, control of new routines, shopping without speaking, two metres apart
Breathe in Shelf Stackers
Hold boxes
Plastic gloves, hidden faces, guarding the entrance, newly celebrated as key workers
Breathe out trolleys piled full of pasta and toilet roll, police tape on the floor, 37 people ahead of us in the queue to get in get, midnight races for delivery slots
Breathe in Postal Workers
Holding heaviest of sacks
Urgent deliveries, left on the doorstep, parcels unsigned for, Birthday presents
Breathe out desperate on-line trading, knock down prices, scary bills, Government letters
Breathe in National Health Service
Holding you
Holding you
Holding you
Breathing for you, care that is intensive and united
Breathe in Scientists
Holding answers
Exploding myths, working for a breakthrough, antibody tests and vaccines
Breathe out armchair immunologists, fake news, lemon juice and 5G
Breathe in compassion, humanity, bravery, kindness, generosity
Hold and remember
This will pass — share laughter, smell your son’s jacket, groups more than two, be an audience
Breathe out grief, inequality, claustrophobia, despair
Breathe.
