Day of Reckoning

CoVID-19 Day 22

Wow, its been an information bomb site today. I joined the Labour Party in 2016 when Jeremy Corbyn was heading for his second win as leader after the infamous ‘chicken coup’ where members of the shadow cabinet resigned one by one after the referendum went Brexit. I’d registered with the party the year before to vote for him as leader and Tom Watson as deputy (how I regret the latter vote). When Theresa May called the snap election in 2017 my heart sank. With Labour well behind in the polls and the Parliamentary Labour Party having done a job on Corbyn. But I really enjoyed the campaign and we were buzzing after the election even though we lost. Jeremy had been magnificent and we’d robbed May of her majority. We came tantalisingly close to gaining power but it wasn’t to be.

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The one who we adore and love, captivates us with her charms
Reassures us with her rhythmic presence and terrifies us in her capriciousness

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There were rumours of the General Secretary throwing spanners into the campaign while some MP’s made it no secret that they were fighting for their seat but not the prospective Labour Prime Minister. Watching some of the Labour faces when the exit poles were announced was very telling — clearly this wasn’t what they were hoping for. Now we know they were hoping for another leadership contest that a narrow defeat wasn’t going to give them. And there are many more grizzly, lurid and shocking revelations that confirm what some of us have been saying openly — that we were robbed in 2017, not by the Tories but by our own party machine.

The fury of party members is palpable but while many are leaving in disgust it’s also galvanising members of the left, now armed with evidence and no longer having to fight our small corner. Disingenuous calls for unity are bouncing off our growing demand for action against those whose hunger for power and influence was at odds with winning a Labour victory. Whatever your feelings for those you openly fight against, betrayal by those who should be your allies and friends is bitter and deep.

However as bitter the pill is, the bile of truth is more palatable than poisoned honey. Those of us who’d barely dipped our toes in the water of politics entered the Corbynite world with some naivity but that was the charm that won the country over and nearly gave us victory. Unfortunately it was also our undoing. We’d hailed a new leader from the back benches who didn’t do politics like the pros. But he was up against a hoary machine, lubricated with the oil of cynical, seasoned and seedy politics. Though they didn’t get their way in 2017, their wet dream played out in 2019. In retrospect it seems Labour’s best effort for many decades was not enough for the Corbyn dream to come to fruition. The loss in 2017 turned out to be a mortal wound.

I took the realisation, that such devastating revelations had a silver lining, with me on my daily walk and found inspiration in the tide. I stood on the water’s edge as the sea came in with gentle waves that were barely perceptable except they’d periodically wet another inch of the sand. And over the next few minutes small waves would splash the rocks and I’d have to stand back. Then I walked along a stone jetty and watched from another angle. The thin layers that made up the shallow waves were like skirts covering fleshy sands like they were being dressed and so this poem got written on my iPhone:

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The naked sand is clothed with an indigo dress
Sequins shimmering and skirts cascading
The bay queen will soon be regaled from Neptune’s wardrobe
And crowned as the sun withdraws to its chamber

For now she takes her throne
In subtle, graceful steps, with little pomp
Another day she will raise her army
And take the rocks by force

Shouting down all who would oppose her
Then retreating with magnanimity and poise
And while the mountain king pushes out his vaunted chest
She dances with the moon in regal beauty

The one who we adore and love
Captivates us with her charms
Reassures us with her rhythmic presence
And terrifies us in her capriciousness

The Bay Queen