The Wind is Rising

A few months back, I was invited to a housewarming party with one stipulation: to earn entry, guests had to produce an original poem. Paul Valéry's 1922 poem, "Le Cimetière Marin" ("The Graveyard by the Sea"), was fresh on my mind the afternoon of the party, because I had just finished Hayao Miyazaki's The Wind Rises with three of my teammates (Jish, Sylas, and Arran) earlier (Miyazaki was heavily inspired by Valéry's poem). Like Miyazaki, I too felt inspired by "Le Cimetière Marin," especially the line, "The wind is rising! We must try to live!" 

In the hour between finishing The Wind Rises and arriving on my friend's doorstep, I wrote "The Wind is Rising," my second ever original poem. Here it is: 

The Wind is Rising

All alone, behind my shield

Knelt I, on bloodied field

Below, a swirl of pain, a rancid ground 

Receding steadily as my foes surround 

Their bowstrings twang, their arrows sang 

Piercing my shield, like deathly fangs 

My shoulders sank, I’d lost the fight 

I braced to feel the killing bite 

“Head up,” I heard a voice say 

“The day to die is not today.” 

His harrowing voice, true and bold. 

A solider, decked all in gold 

On a raging steed, stretched to the sky 

My spirit lifting, begins to fly

To the heavens, his gilded horn 

A resounding call as bright as morn

Fierce as fire, on wings it rose 

Over every deafening throe 

At trumpet’s sound, poured down soldiers on steed 

“The wind is rising,” they cried. “Take heed.” 

Upon arrival they knelt, file on file 

Rank upon rank around, stretched for miles 

As we fought, our will only grew 

Though some of us fell, we’d see it through 

When the smoke cleared, at break of day 

All around, our enemies lay 

We’d won, but at a great cost 

Men who’d saved my life, now lost 

The clouds parted, and sun broke through 

The world’s chance to begin anew 

At long last, I arose and stood 

Feeble, broken, a strange likelihood 

Below, an earth bloodied and stained 

In my place, a flower remained.

Here is a picture of Arran on his laptop before we started the film. It's absolutely great. It captures an ideal mood. Our dark room, a sanctuary for screenings, and an overcast Sunday outside. You can't see or hear it, but I can promise you our kettle was on, as well. That thing was always on. We had a plethora of coffee and tea at the ready in that suite. Never a clean mug though. You had to work for it.