The grieving one who never looks outside.

Suffers like a prisoner in a cell Yet they have some freedom to decide

To grieve, yet view our holy world as well.

To turn the eyes back to the lost and dead.

Is what we all may do in painful times But to this natural world, we must be wed;

And under suffering, draw a heavy line.

From despair, we rise to be renewed;

To see our friends and make our hearts feel glad. And look behind us with a gentler view

See the joys mixed with the loss we’ve had.

In the sea of grief, we’ll swim not drown,

And cast away lead weights which pull us down.

Quoting Kate Picket from the Guardian this morning.

Elsewhere she points out that every £1,000 increase in household income translates to a rise of 3.6 months, or a quarter of a year, of life expectancy, regardless of which rung you happen to be on on the social ladder. She also suggests participatory budgeting, progressive taxation, citizen assemblies an… a