Oh gods this hits the bell today! Shaken awake with the thought
‘I’m still here and I have it all to feel and face and fall through 🤦♀️.’
Sometimes rumination can resound so badly in my sleep-starved, teeming brain, I have to intercede, to manipulate my dream… thus, suddenly I’m French, my clothes grand, Baroque style with my hair covered by a high white wig…. I’m standing in an open carriage, Wolf-hound by my side and I’m heading for Gallow’s Hill, just far enough away from the castle so the ladies don’t wince -
“Any last words…” he barks
“The only word I have is YES” and with that I lie down, arms wide clutching handfuls of Daisy-clad grass, I turn my head to the side and invite the axe’s blade - but not before telling my executioner that he must promise to ‘unceremoniously boot the offensive vessel into the sea’!!
Mad and yet healing….
That’s what it is like… 😵💫
Love the closeness to the edge of this poem DW, great that you can stand close to the abyss and whisper back…
A very fierce and uncompromising poem written in a very fierce and uncompromising time. Sometimes our only connection with where we want to go and how we want to be is through the distance we feel from both those states. We feel the full measure and pain of our exile in order to find a first footing in exactly what is missing. In acknowledging what is missing we feel a strangely inverse calibration of our belonging and through that sense of belonging measured to begin with only through distance start to move closer once again toward what pulls us on. DW
"We feel the full measure and pain of our exile in order to find a first footing in exactly what is missing." Thanks for this commentary. As I read again, I see that this is so true. The being with the pain first, acknowledges what we don't want to turn toward and may provoke that very turning. Fierce courage required. Thanks again for your insights and this forum of exchange.
I can recognise the abyss early in my journey of grief. If blessed with sleep I would open my eyes on a world not of my choosing.
Just saying though ... living alone in a house with just servants has its attractions ; particularly with older women who are done with relationships.😊 I'd fill the place with rescue dogs and horses, music, art, books and have a large garden . Inevitably people will want to connect though . It's hard work being reclusive.
Heartbreaking. Evokes the desire to reach out and place a hand against the glass wall of another’s fortress of solitude.
Oh gods this hits the bell today! Shaken awake with the thought
‘I’m still here and I have it all to feel and face and fall through 🤦♀️.’
Sometimes rumination can resound so badly in my sleep-starved, teeming brain, I have to intercede, to manipulate my dream… thus, suddenly I’m French, my clothes grand, Baroque style with my hair covered by a high white wig…. I’m standing in an open carriage, Wolf-hound by my side and I’m heading for Gallow’s Hill, just far enough away from the castle so the ladies don’t wince -
“Any last words…” he barks
“The only word I have is YES” and with that I lie down, arms wide clutching handfuls of Daisy-clad grass, I turn my head to the side and invite the axe’s blade - but not before telling my executioner that he must promise to ‘unceremoniously boot the offensive vessel into the sea’!!
Mad and yet healing….
That’s what it is like… 😵💫
Love the closeness to the edge of this poem DW, great that you can stand close to the abyss and whisper back…
This one puzzles me and I'd love some context from you, David, if you are so inclined. Meanwhile, pondering.
A very fierce and uncompromising poem written in a very fierce and uncompromising time. Sometimes our only connection with where we want to go and how we want to be is through the distance we feel from both those states. We feel the full measure and pain of our exile in order to find a first footing in exactly what is missing. In acknowledging what is missing we feel a strangely inverse calibration of our belonging and through that sense of belonging measured to begin with only through distance start to move closer once again toward what pulls us on. DW
"We feel the full measure and pain of our exile in order to find a first footing in exactly what is missing." Thanks for this commentary. As I read again, I see that this is so true. The being with the pain first, acknowledges what we don't want to turn toward and may provoke that very turning. Fierce courage required. Thanks again for your insights and this forum of exchange.
So powerful, thank you
Truth is not something that resonates with average mind— but courage to give wing to the unspeakable… all know yet disguise their fear
I can recognise the abyss early in my journey of grief. If blessed with sleep I would open my eyes on a world not of my choosing.
Just saying though ... living alone in a house with just servants has its attractions ; particularly with older women who are done with relationships.😊 I'd fill the place with rescue dogs and horses, music, art, books and have a large garden . Inevitably people will want to connect though . It's hard work being reclusive.
Oh this feels very bleak indeed, like a heart has been frozen and there's no hope of a thaw. X