No words existed in its welcome hold

Struggling in the black of sinking sands
As I heard of when a little child
I gave up hope and let myself descend

My garments as a mourner I did rend
Death itself was shown me and beguiled
Struggling in the black of sinking sand

Far away from loved ones ,with no friend
The suffering of the past seemed almost mild
I gave up hope and let myself descend

I felt from every heaven I had been banned
With demons  of the Nazis  in exile
Struggling in the black of sinking sand

I am not inclined to make demands
Yet then  a mystic light caressed my soul
I  had lost my hope and feared  the end

This  golden light  enwrapped me like a stole
No words existed in its welcome hold
Struggling in the black of sinking sands
I was lifted out by  unknown hands

 

The edge of sight

The impatience of a hunter, keen,intent
Will miss small movements at the edge of sight
Will miss the sacred spirit’s new descent

Relaxing when in danger,insolent,
Will throw a wider beam of golden light
Curb impatience, excess of intent

Slowness is a sign we can present
That’s enough for heart to speak to heart
We see the holy spirit’s new descent

Can we from our eagerness dissent
Lean back, let the other play their part
Curb impatience, excessee of intent?

For my narrow vision,I repent
How I’ve missed the whole with graphs and charts
Now I see the holy spirit’s spent

Scanning with a wider gaze unvites
Calmer ways of living with less spite,
The impatience of a hunter, keen,intent
Will miss the gold of spirit’s new descent

There’s no foe

The mind inhabits every body cell

When we’re tense the mind is tense as well

Thoughts are strangled choked the mind is crazed

All our body cells this crush obey.

Suspicion narrows eyes. And purses lips.

As we tense, the mind itself will shrink

Turning violent, hearts attacked by pain

No good thoughts are nurtured by this strain

How can we relax and trust once more?

The war dead moan, the Jews scream, Ariel roars.

Feel the pain precisely, let it go

Warmer heart remember there’s no foe

Contractions

We lose our health we lose our lovers friends

Death comes slow but faster at the end

Now we can’t afford to use the lights

We feebly rage against the coming night.

Once our life expanded as we grew

Every year was filled with actions new.

Marriage job promotion travel fun

We never thought that one day we’d be done.

Who can fight against the dying light?

Once so strong and fierce your heart gave up

Oh my love I miss you in the night..

Filled with sorrow, we must drain the cup.

Aging is like dying everyday

Slowly slowly each life ebbs away

Soaring soul

A  robin came in after you had died
The little bird is missing you like me
After hopping round, away birds fly

You sat there in the kitchen looking kind
The birds were eating crumbs left from our tea
The  robin looked in after you had died

Should I see it as a  subtle sign?
Once a bird tapped on the window here
I  knew   the meaning as I sadly sighed

After hopping round, away birds fly.
Their delicacy, their size haunts me like fear
The  robin looked in after you had died 

I wish the  bird  had stayed a little while
I wish I were up North near Windermere
On a  boat that sails  till my heart smiles

Oh, for another  one to  share , to steer
I miss your hands so warm and once so near
A  robin called by after you had died
With your soaring soul the small birds  fly

Maps and roads

London is bewildered by its roads
The Circular, the North,the South, the Codes
The Morse and the Enigma Turing broke
So now we have new bicycles with spokes

Once we had the A to Z in hand
Turn it upside down and you’ll be grand
New technology has made gigantic strides
Carrying us to Eden ,what a ride

The motorways are empty for tonight
God decided we had too much Light
He taught the bare cheeked Moon on Jesus’ mount
To turn the other side when love’s about

I liked to use a compass and a map
But now, my dear, most everything’s on tap
I crouch beneath my sister as she drives
In the dark on the M 25

But if it’s closed, we are completely foxed
We left the old Road Atlas in a box
Along with all my ex’s underpants
And naturally his principles of Kant

We may be in Watford or in Bucks
I often wonder what will rhyme with luck
We may be near St Alban’s, we can’t see
The car ran up the trunk of this oak tree

We rang 999 and they are her
A fire engine filled  with Kentish beer
A ladder for the ladies to climb down
Now they are just women on the town

London won’t exist ,destroyed by cars
Angry men who cannot find a bar

Sculpture as metaphor

Sculpture makes a metaphor look real
We can use more senses than our sight
We see the body hollow where we feel

Seeing, touching,sensing all appeal
If there is sufficient sun and light
Sculpture makes a metaphor look real

We feel it in our gut, how can it steal
The feeling of our innards in the night
We see the metal hollow where we feel

The heart has broken up and disappeared
No more time to love or lust ignite
Sculpture makes a metaphor too real

To admit another’s sorrow makes us fear
Denial as the cock crows ending night
We see the body’s hollow where we feel

Oh, will such bald agony take flight
Can we hold the grief in our insides?
Sculpture makes a metaphor so real
We see the grieving empty and unpeeled

A single rose

The fewer our possessions are, the better.

If you have no bread you need no butter.

Turn away from Envy Use your will.

If there is no illness there’s no pill

Comparisons are painful to the weak

If you and rhey persist the outlook’s bleak.

Be grateful you can see and feel and taste

The wonders of perception go to waste.

When we lose a sense we realise

Nothing can replace our ears and eyes.

Adding more possessions makes more work.

In the maze of choice do not get stuck

In the empty space perception grows

Lots of weeds or just a single rose

Joy and woe

The music of the fountain in the pond

The warmth of July sun on face and hands

How you liked sit here for an hour.

And how you loved the shrubs and little flowers.

I still can’t be here without feeling sad.

And yet inside my heart I’m also glad.

For while you lost your appetite for food

Sitting in the courtyard did you good.

And when the little tulips shared their heads

Your joy was sweet, my lover oh our bed.

When you were too weak to hug me more

The images of tulips through me poured.

I close my eyes and see them once again

This helps me survive the grievous pain.

For joy and woe are woven and are one.

The fabric of our life can’t be undone

Is empathy a good thing?

 

 

lepanthes_adrianaehttps://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/feb/19/think-empathy-makes-world-better-place-think-again

 

“The main problem with empathy is that it works like a spotlight, highlighting certain people in the here and now, making their suffering salient to you. This can sometimes be a good thing. Indeed, one of the best arguments in favour of empathy is that it really does make you kinder to the person you are empathising with. This is backed by laboratory research, by everyday experience and by common sense.

So if the world were a simple place, where the only difficulties one had to deal with involved a single person in some sort of immediate distress, and where helping that person had positive effects, the case for empathy would be solid.

But the world is not a simple place. One problem is that empathy is innumerate, favouring the one over the many. In one classic series of studies, psychologists asked some subjects how much money they would give to help develop a drug that would save the life of one child and asked others how much they would give to save eight children. People would give roughly the same in both cases. But when a third group of subjects was told the child’s name and shown her picture, the donations shot up – now there were greater donations to the one than to the eight. All of these laboratory effects can be seen as manifestations of what has been called “the identifiable victim effect”.”