My favourite route home from gigs, where being the only woman in the audience was not unusual, took me through St George’s Churchyard, a green lung of over 50 mature limes, mature horse chestnuts, poplar, weeping ash and cherry trees. Their natural shade was a shield from city noise and temperatures, providing a buffer against the urban heat island effect. These trees provided a balm against the frequent low-level sexual harassment, and, on one occasion assault, that was part of my live music reviewing.

Emma Lee

The trees had provided “balm to a country girl who’d felt welcome” as I pledged.

I would still do what I loved. But I needed to hit stop

and refuse to rewind. Refuse the post-mortem of blame.

This wasn’t my fault. The rustle of leaves reassured me.

– Gone midnight and I needed somewhere to press reset

by Emma Lee

That night, the trees provided another important buffer. They allowed me to decompress so I didn’t drag the aftermath of that night home. 

Photo by sq lim on Unsplash

I was horrified when I learnt that the city council were proposing to fell 21 of those trees. One of the reasons given was to “cut crime”. But trees don’t commit crimes and I did not want to lose my green lung. In December 2018, a Tree Festival was arranged in Orton Square. Local poets and songwriters were asked to write about how much the trees meant. I wrote “Gone midnight and I needed somewhere to press reset”. In one of the oddest places I have ever been published, my poem was included in the festival and the subsequent “Open Letter to Leicester City Council” in opposition to the proposal. 

Poetry can make things happen. The proposal was rejected. 

Photo by michal dziekonski on Unsplash

One of the highlights of 2021, as Leicester emerged from the longest lockdown in the UK, was at Curve Theatre’s live outdoor event. I was able to stand on stage in Orton Square and read my poem to a sizeable audience. Just beyond them, I could see those trees, leaves waving like jazz hands or the BSL sign for applause. I felt safe. My poem was a small token of gratitude.

[Complete poem published in Winedrunk Sidewalk (2018) and in “The Significance of a Dress” (Arachne Press, 2020)]