Day: November 2, 2025

Trial by life

Trial by life has an unbearable twist
Sad days of darkness must come to an end
Trial by life’s an endurable test

Send for the minister,send for the priest.
With her long pointed nails ,she has her garments all rent.
This trial by life’s unendurable tryst

The priest is no longer either sacred or blessed.
The succession has faltered with bitter dissent
Trial by life’s an endurable test

The people must now to each other confess.
The Tabernacle’s empty ,for who paid the rent?
Trial of life, who can endure such a tryst?

We need to look into our own hearts that cursed.
We need to take shelter,though torn is the Tent
Trial by life’s an endurable test.

Who gives the verdict,which judge is not bent?
Who can decide whether we should assent?
Trial by life:what a blow ,what a fist.
Trial by life: the unbearable last

To find a home for love without

When first I saw your soulful face,
I wished to dwell in your embrace.
I wished as well to clothe you in
The sacred images within.

To find a home for love without;
To fold my dreams all round about;
Your loving body and your face
Were covered in such joy and grace.

I found my dreams were cast aside;
The world of meaning denied life.
What seemed most precious now is fled
As I lie sleepless in my bed.

What is the world when unadorned
With all that in my heart I’ve formed?
There is no meaning I can trace.
As in a mother’s empty face.

On these grey rocks. my path is hard.
From paradise, my self is barred.
To struggle or to grief succumb,
When this dark day of mourning’s done?

Into His dazzling darkness dart
My dreams and love like dying sparks.
Into His Mystery so fair.
I’ll cast both hope and my despair.

Thus my dreams will be transformed
To show themselves in other forms.
What feels a loss may foretell growth.
On my hope,I’ll take an oath:

“That nothing in my life is waste;
That I have not for phantasms chased.
And you are human,as am I.
Let’s live again until we die”

The diet of worms [

They’re hunting snails
In New South Wales
They’re hunting bees,
And shooting trees.
They’re hanging worms
For lengthy terms
They’re on a diet
And don’t we know it.

The diet of worms shall be our fare
And on the bible. we shall swear.
We’ll swear our oath
We are not loth
We’ll strangle frogs
They’ll die in bogs.

We’ll always use four letter words
And they shall be our hunting swords.
We’ll kill the good
We’ll burn the wood.
We’ll shout out,fuck.
We’ll burn the book

We’ll let no thin skinned people live.
We’ll always take and never give!
We’ll use our charms
To quell alarms.
We’ll rape the girls
Cut off their curls.

For as we’re human, so we’re mad.
We kill the good and love the bad.
We saw the babe in Bethlehem
We saw him die between two men.
We did not run to cut him down
We said,Oh,fuck,another clown.
For he spoke love
And said to give.
For he spoke peace;
Let joy increase

For like most human,we are crazed
We see it and we’re not amazed.
No sunset red
No welcome bed
No golden dawn
No welcome morn
No loving arms
No sacred charms
No newborn king
No tune to sing

Oh,we are damned
We are broke
We built Auschwitz
Saw the smoke.
And now it’s built again,again
Drops the bomb
In Bethlehem.
And on our knees, we women crawl
To bury babies born too small.
To take the swords from these mens’ hands
And bury them in desert sands.
To pick up scraps of humanness
To hold up hands for God to bless.
We did it wrong,we did it bad
We never thought, so now we’re mad

The light that is enough

Attracted by the light that is enough

We need not look for wisdom somewhere else

Wandering through the world so dark and rough

We may find the secret in ourselves

The sacred is as spare as leaves are fine

No wasted bud no colour in excess

So loving senses decorate the mind

We need not hide from chaos or distress.

The secret Life is here, the everyday

This is where we know the mystic light

Our tongues alone will tell us what to say

Our normal eyes will show us holy signs

for with our shadowed selves we rightly play

Enlightened by the flowers so wild and free

The sacred is on earth for you and me

Love gives the soul her appetite.

Love gives the soul her appetite.

Though the night is black and starless,

The inner guide is never careless.

The notes are struck,the tune is played,

Plain melodies are overlaid.

In this chant and benediction,

Healing comes for desolation.

Though the passage way is narrow,

This road is the one to follow.

Struggling through the mud and mire,

We see,in darkness, tongues of fire.

The sacred centre of our life

Is never found without some strife.

Just then, the dark and light combine.

To create a symbol for the mind

From (finally) being given the Booker prize to the day her partner died: an exclusive extract from Margaret Atwood’s new memoir | Margaret Atwood | The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2025/nov/01/margaret-atwood-memoir-extract-booker-prize-death-of-partner