Here To Listen

Libraries are fantastic places. Both writers, readers and overworked University students are aware of this. But London libraries are even better; for they don’t just harbour stories in the books, they also harbour them in the people. Over the past couple of days I’ve assisted Toni Stuart with her poetry installation ‘’Here To Listen’’. Toni works in complete silence, while inviting members of the public to speak to her. After the exchange, she writes a poem. It’s beautiful, mostly driven by Toni’s disposition and ability to look, see and validate a person without even having to say a word to them. It’s made me reflect a lot about permission and what that means, what happens when we let people tell their stories without any response or judgement…..


People are wonderful, pattern making creatures. All hummed, all paused, all questioned - Can I really speak to you right now? Without you speaking back? All took a moment, then eventually shared on such an authentic level. Stories about lost watches, growing up in Pakistan, dreaming about being a squirrel, awkward train journeys - lost love. It's an exercise that transcends poetry, and feels like a method of breaking the misery which pervades London (sometimes).

I wander what would happen if half the capital fell silent while the other spoke, how therapeutic that could feel. I wander what could be said if the right space was allowed.

What really struck me about this experience is how I slowly found power in listening to the noises around me, the hypnotic rise and fall of Leicester Square outside, the polite conversations at tables nearby, and the countless newspapers shuffling. How comforting these noises were, although almost distracting. In the process I am essentially there to act as the facilitator and communicate for Toni, so retreating into my own version of silence is probably not (overall) useful to the process. I'm grateful for Toni for allowing me this experience, in awe of how consistently strong each poem is, and urge you to check out her work. Her stories breathe life.



Here is a poem I wrote while in the space.