By Afsana Elanko
Welcome to my last month for editing Thursday Connectors, where I explore borrowing from nature; thinking about variety and change.
This made me think about the marginalised communities, disabled and those voices that are not being heard. How do they manage in society? I found groups that work with disabled individuals turning to nature to get inspiration and strength. Through their performances, they delivered messages of hope, whereby the disabled individuals are centre stage and their voices are being heard. Maybe turning to nature as we did during the COVID pandemic can teach us a lot?
I wondered, if we took strength from these brave and inspirational individuals and opened doors to the marginalised voices that are not often heard in society so boldly and openly, could we create a more inclusive society? Could we include the hard and difficult conversations in everyday society?
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On that note, I’d like to open the page with Tavinder, who shares an image and writes a very heartfelt and personal account on involuntary childlessness and how she turns to nature for strength.
Childlessness
After becoming childless not by choice, I have started to rebuild a relationship with myself and nature. I’ve never been green-fingered,
and plants usually die when I look after them. When my implantation didn’t work, I felt as though I was a failure, being unable to create in the same way nature can do so easily. Planting triggered me, which made me feel unable to garden. But, since then, I’ve grown to ‘flower’ and become confident in planting and seeing the roses bloom in our garden.
I feel a sense of shame and questioning around why I don’t have a child. There’s no easy answer, and it can be complex for many. I feel ‘less than’ – noticing all the time how women are presenting themselves as mothers – and wondering if I am ‘less than’ in having qualities of empathy, understanding and parenting?
There’s also a disconnect. Sometimes, I’ve found people don’t want to know me because I don’t have a child. Others make comments that can come across as being insensitive, such as I’m lucky not to have a child, things are easy, I have all the time to do what I like, and I could adopt or foster. Society seems to undermine those who, for many reasons, are unable to have a child. This means there is a huge adjustment to make: finding yourself and managing disenfranchised grief around multiple losses. To me, society needs to recognise that, for the many of us who are childless, the grief is immense. Deep suffering arises from our journey, and sometimes we’re confronted by a lack of empathy or recognition from those who are not in our position. There is so much around parenting, events and families within the spectrum, leaving me wondering where I can ‘flower’ in terms of belonging and finding a place to fit?
In my journey, I have learnt to build my relationship with nature through healing and growth. I am growing beyond childlessness, and feel there needs to be recognition for the incredible strength it takes to live with a life you didn’t choose.
Those who are childless contribute in many ways: like nature, we help society grow. I hope my piece shows there is always common ground and, whether you have a child or not, it shouldn’t define you as a person.
© Tavinder Kaur New, 2026
Connect with Tavinder on Facebook: Tavinder New, Instagram: @tavi_nderknew or via their website: tavindernew.wordpress.com
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Jawad shares a delicate and intimate poem which has nature intertwined in it and makes one reflect that nature lives with us every day, even though we may not realise it. This linked image, created by Jawad, sets the scene.
© Jawad Alhashemy, 2026
I Love The Rain
“I love the rain,’’ she said
“I love the rain,’’ I replied
“I love the night and the moon,” she said
And I replied: “I love them too”
“I love staying up until early dawn,” she said.
“So am I,” was my reply.
“Why do you love the rain?” she asked,
“Because I ran away from it into your arms…”
“And why, then, do you love the moon and the night?” she asked again,
“They make me get lost into your body,” I said,
“And when the morning comes, It doesn’t find me.”
“What about staying awake until morning?” she asked,
I replied: “It is the time that I spend with your red lips,
Sipping your bosom’s honey,
I wish the daylight never comes,
I wish to live like this for ever.”
© Jawad Alhashemy, 2026
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Our next poem is from a team of individuals who co-created a performance, A Walk In The Forest, with Rosetta Life ( a 25-year-old arts and health innovation charity), where they borrowed the healing power of the forest, sounds of the river, birds and wind; canopy of the trees with sunlight beaming through.
Lucinda, the Creative Director, wrote the following when sending the poem and images which touched my heart:
At the heart of our creative practices lies co-creation. Artists work collaboratively with individuals to make artworks so their voices, ideas, bodies and movements of disabled individuals are at the heart of everything we do. We develop practices that are inclusive and enabling for people with disabilities. They are enabled to participate rather than asking for help or adjustments to be included.
A Walk In The Forest – Love, Life And Healing
In hospital, where silence once stood still,
A forest bloomed through human will –
Not grown from earth or rooted ground,
Shaped through breath, movement and sound.
Grown through minds and heart that dare,
To co-create, to breathe, to share.
“A Walk in the forest,” softly grew,
Where hearts could heal and souls renew.
The dancers came with beaming light,
Awakening dreams once lost to the night.
Rewarding as the earth after rain,
Inviting joy after loss and pain.
A loving, journey, calm and free,
Where breath became the forest breeze,
Hands were leaves in whispered flight,
And wheelchair drifted through the light.
The audience watched with tearful eyes,
Smiles unfolded, wide as skies.
Nature sounds and playful song,
Helped wounded hearts to sing along.
Encouraging poem spoken branch by branch,
Became a bridge, no grief could blanch.
“It moved me” “beautiful,” they said,
As hope grew where fear once spread.
The dancers’ movement a tantalising trance,
Till souls themselves began to dance.
Performance bloomed like a spoken prayer,
Healing body and soul through the air.
Each disability adaptation carved a place,
For every person’s strength and grace.
Powerful choreography declared:
Every soul belongs and welcomed in space shared.
Enthusiasm created streams,
Performers awakened forgotten dreams.
Patients smiled and some softly wept,
While pinecones in their hands were kept –
Small fragments of the forest’s peace,
Reminders, healing does not cease,
Nature lingered, calm and true,
A woodland light carried through.
Healing opened hidden doors,
Growth took root through shared accords.
Picnic for the tired performers on the grass,
Reminiscing on lives touched as moments pass.
Gathered, ahead of journey home – to be restored,
Reflecting on the lives, they’d warmed.
Even injured hearts can grow,
When connection, kindness teaches love to flow.
Reflecting on how beauty, even injured and worn,
Through nature and nurture is still capable of being reborn –
And every soul who shared that day,
Still carries forest light away
© A Walk In The Forest Team, 2026
I created the following montage using the photographs Chris Rawlence took during the performance rehearsal.
Walk In The Forest © Chris Rawlence and Afsana Elanko, 2026
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Most of us like to visit a beach during the summer, so it’s a pleasure to include this atmospheric poem from Deputy Editor Claire about wonderful moments enjoyed by the sea.
Sea Air
When we said we were moving out to the coast
Everyone gave us the very same toast
They told us the sea air would be good for our soul
They didn’t say how it would blow through you whole
For when you live by the beach it gets ever so gusty
And anything staying still ends up rather dusty
Seaside winds blow sand in your eye
And whip your hair round making you cry
It tells you lies about the heat of the sun
Giving wind and sun burn all rolled up in one
The smell of old seaweed clears out your pores
A healthy dose will more than likely make you snore
In winter that wind is certainly no joke
You’ll feel like you’re not even wearing a coat
It’ll cheerfully drive all the freezing rain
Like mini ice picks right into your brain
But in summer that breeze is welcome to blow
Cos sea air is good for you, didn’t you know?
© Claire Buss, 2018
Connect with Claire on Instagram @grasshopper2407 or via her website clairebuss.co.uk
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Jilly’s series of haikus on nature take us on a journey through the seasons. A reminder that life isn’t static.
Seasons Dancing
Spring
early spring message
“my people a fresh new start
awaits your pleasure”
springtime slowly fades,
welcoming warm summer skies,
starlit crescendo
rising as a cloud
in startling cacophony,
starlings at twilight
Summer
seagulls swooping low,
the essence of the ocean,
calling to the sun
summer holidays
twitch beckoning fingers as
spring draws to a close
sitting here gazing,
eyes arrested by colour,
England in summer
Autumn
leaves swaying softly
in autumn’s gentle breezes,
chilly rain tumbles
autumn’s sunshine smile,
a treasure chest of leaves glow
golden, russet, brown
red dots on a tree,
an abundance of apples,
good enough to eat
Winter
footprints in the snow
are frozen steps in time as
evening’s descending
February winds
cut through like icy blizzards,
yet winter’s sun glows
trees standing naked
shivering in winter’s chill,
spring so far away
© Jilly Henderson-Long, 2026
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I’m leaving you with Remmyglad’s poem, reminding us that, if we borrow from nature, we should know hope is around the corner!
Life Is A Jungle
“The world is not a bed of roses”.
Life is like a spiral movement,
It goes backwards and forwards.
Whatever trial, persecution, challenge, sorrow,
Life looks up, from nature we borrow.
Never give up. Never quit. Keep on going.
Be brave and take courage.
Remember roses have thorns,
Let determination and optimism be the key.
© Remmyglad Anaele, 2026
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Issue 29, featuring travel writer Tharik Hussain is out 22 June.
Issue 28, featuring author and historian Alison Weir is out now. You will be able to find it in libraries and other outlets. Alternatively, all current and previous editions can be found on our magazines page here.
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