BBC News – ‘Rare’ paintings in Piccotts End cottage under threat – BBC News https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-beds-bucks-herts-26548451?app-referrer=deep-link

When Mary came out of the ‘chiropody clinic, she walked round the corner to the new cafe where she ate a piece of cake and had a cup of tea .The cafe was almost empty and the waitress seemed delighted to see her ;she sat gazing at the old Tudor wall across the road. The cake was delicious, indeed it was sinful to a normal person and deadly to a diabetic.
After drinking her tea she went into the Polish shop to buy some of their wonderful bread. The only problem with their food was that all the labels were in Polish and Mary decided that she had enough to do without learning Polish
As she approached the till by the door, a young woman seemed to be having some trouble with her groceries. She looked in her purse, she looked at the assistant she seemed to be trying to remove some other groceries but could not make up her mind which to keep and which to leave behind ; she took a credit card out of her bag but it was not accepted
Mary realised that this young woman could not actually afford to buy the food that she needed and Mary’s arthritis was very bad. Selfishly, she asked the young lady if she could not pay for her food.
No I can’t ,said the lady anxiously
And do you have some children at home Mary asked her ?

Yes the lady said
Mary turn to the shop assistant and said “I will pay for this lady’s food and for my loaf. then she turned to the woman and said to her
“You can give this money to the poor at Christmas” thinking to herself that it would not seem so rude to pay the bills and assume that the young woman would do nothing in return
Isabelle, as this Polish lady liked to call herself, was amazed by this old English lady with excessively short hair standing on end like the head the toothbrush

What ,you are paying for my food ?
Definitely said Mary thinking to herself that she had just spent 5 pounds in the cafe when she didn’t really need a piece of chocolate cake
Suddenly Isabelle came to Mary and asked her her name ;she hugged her closely and whispered I will pray for you as she kissed Mary’s cheek
Thank you so much, said Mary. She gave the shopkeeper a note then she took the bread and walked up the road past the shop selling baths and lavatories in amazing beautiful white china;there were lots of school boys standing in groups chatting and laughing
I’m glad you’re all having a good time, Mary said to them with a smile
I don’t think I’m going to tell Annie about this, she thought to herself ;she might think I’m stupid for paying somebody else’s bill but isn’t it nice to think that we can do these actions purely because we are suffering from arthritis and can’t stand in a queue
So it looks like illness does have certain benefits like making us more generous to other people
At the bus stop a crowd of wet and damp people were waiting and unfortunately it was quite dark as well
I wonder if I will be able to get on the bus, thought Mary. she stood there in her light teal coloured woolen winter coat from Lands End in the sale last year with a pink fleece hat meant to protect her from the rain and at the same time to completely ruin her hairstyle
On her face she was wearing a moisturiser which was also a sun screen and on her full lips she wore coral coloured lipstick from Reverend Makeup for ex Christians made with holy water blessed by the Bisho of Bath and Wells. in the West of England as it ran down the road
Her mascara was said to be waterproof but eating the chocolate cake in the cafe had made her weep with joy so her mascara had run down her face making her look like a zebra in human form
Fortunately, Mary did not know about this and she stood at the bus stop or rather sat at the bus stop on a horrible plastic seat. Imagine how bl she looked…… rather peculiar but then Mary always has looeds peculiar even when she was a young woman with golden hair that ran down her back in ripples like waves breaking on the seashore except that they did not make any sound as they waved in the Breeze and had no deep melancholy roar,as Mattthew Arnold might have written
It is quite true that the sea of faith seems to have disappeared but maybe there is a pool of faith somewhere were some goldfish might be Baptised By the parish priest now that the number of people going to church had declined dramatically.Sexual misbehaviour and even rape had destroyed a lot of young people who had trusted the priests and so never were able to enjoy a normal sex life with a chosen partner
No doubt many people do not have much love and sexual pleasure and they may be too shy to approach anyone .Why is life so hard? Some people have luck and others have terror and hunger,even torture

The bus drove up the road in the dark with a neon Street light flashing in a horrible manner; she did not like that colour and wondered if anyone might want to change it to something like silvery gold especially at Christmas time
When Mary got home she rang her old school friend Margaret.
Margaret, I am so selfish I paid a woman’s bill so I wouldn’t have to stand behind her waiting to pay or to come out of the shop without any bread at all
That’s a funny way of looking at it said Margaret it was very nice that you suggested that she give the money to charity at Christ.mas because then it’s being passed along from one person to another to the benefit of everybody
You are so clever, Margaret. I wonder what Annie will think. I wonder what Emile will think also being a cat he is not very expert at dealing with money or shopping ;he thinks that we should go out and kill something that we found in somebody’s in back gardens and then we can eat it raw and so we won’t have any washing up. If ever there was something other than snails and worms in Mary’s back garden maybe she would have taken the cat’s advice

What would I eat Mary thought.. a fox, a hedgehog, a lion, a dog ? I’m afraid I could only eat the leaves off the forsythia and maybe some holly berries since it’s Christmas I don’t think that will be easy to digest. not much protein in that. Maybe I’ll eat Emile and then we’ll see what he thinks!
I think I might be getting dementia she thought to herself.
I’d better go to McDonald’s and have a cheeseburger and a large portion of chips followed by a large tub of ice cream I’m sure that’s better than eating things in the garden.

I wondered if Annie would like to come to McDonald’s? it will be a change from the kind of food we normally eat like roast beef and Yorkshire puddings or lamb chops on a bed of onions and tomato. Topside with green peas or Lancashire Hotpot yum yum I wonder if they sell steak an kidney pudding anywhere in a restaurant?
When Mary hung up she was so tired she fell asleep on the sofa and when she woke up it was late; she had some Weetabix protein and went to bed where Emile was already lying trying to warm it up for her and to save her money from using the electric blanket too much
Emile is a very thoughtful cat ;perhaps he would like to go to McDonald’s as well in Mary’s handbag.
I shall ask him in the morning she thought and then she dreamt about the bottom of the ocean and all the beautiful fish that swim ; she saw Stan trying to explain social statistics to a mermaid.
What a terrifying sight. So that’s where he is, she cried not in heaven with Jesus .l I think Jesus would understand that some old men still love women even after they have died and any women around might be mermaids who have been living in the sea of faith for 2000 years and will be living there much longer we all hope
And so say all of us

).

A  melancholic character  to gain
Is hard  if you  dislike sin,dirt and grime
Practising deep sadness with grey hope
We toy with food and wildly,  madly mope
No aid for those who love a gentle rhyme

No interest in the world ,it’s all’s the same
No love for fun nor learning any games
No studying   or learning how to cope
Oh, melancholy

We see too  many people we can blame
For  fog that came down like a sudden crime
As fast in speed as fearful antelopes
While  elephants phlegmatic stand and gawp
My mind is reeling from the knee deep dark
Ah, melancholy

https://www.penwellgabeltopeka.com/Blog/6245/Melancoliesculpture

Melancholy, the emptiness that incapacitates us through grief

Melancholy, a sculpture created by Albert Gyorgy, portrays the void that grief leaves us with. The sculpture depicts a figure made of copper sitting on a bench slumped over, with a giant hole in the center of it. This hole represents the massive void that we all feel when we lose someone dear to us, and many people have expressed their appreciation for this sculpture for it portraying the exact emotions they feel, but perhaps haven’t been able to quite put into words.
Albert Gyorgy felt intense sadness and isolation with the loss of his wife and went on to create this beautiful piece of artwork as a way to cope. A photo of this sculpture has been shared on Facebook over 200,000 times by various people who’ve suffered a loss in their life. Strangers have united to share their unfortunate experiences with loss, and have expressed words of sympathy to one another. .
Many people feel they can relate to this piece of artwork in various ways, through grief, but also through mental illness. The void in this art can represent a multitude of emotions that we all face. It is relatable as we have all likely felt lost and empty at some point in our lives, and it brings people together knowing they’re not facing these hardships alone.
As dark as this artwork may be, it serves as some sort of comfort to those who’ve experienced a loss, as they feel they identify with this sculpture. This famous sculpture can be found at Lake Geneva, Switzerland, and proves to be a popular tourist attraction. If you find yourself on a European vacation, consider paying a visit to this beautiful sculpture and grasping the deep meaning it portrays.

See the original Facebook post here.

My sister painted this picture a few months ago.

Oh,melancholy you are always near.

http://www.brainpickings.org/2014/11/28/against-happiness-melancholy-wilson/

I

It may be a surprise to some English people or British people that black nurses in the hospitals are paid the same as the white nurses

Everyon whose first language is not English needs to pass an English examination even if they are fully qualified in their own country.

Nursing is not a job for unqualified and thoughtless people

We have nurses from other countries here because there aren’t enough British ones and no not all unemployed young people are suitable to be nurses and even if they are it would take four years to get them qualified.

Nurses also need to be numerate because they have to give out medication and drugs

https://theconversation.com/eight-ways-to-sleep-well-in-hot-weather-285434

My photo

https://www.theguardian.com/global/2016/jun/18/poetry-can-heal-it-helped-me-through-depression

Extract:

For me, poetry is medicine. The poet Les Murray writes: “I’d disapproved of using poetry as personal therapy, but the Black Dog taught me better. Get sick enough, and you’ll use any remedy you’ve got.” In the 19th century, people in asylums were encouraged to write poetry, while William Cowper (1731-1800) wrote that, in his depressions, “I find writing, especially poetry, my best remedy.” Orpheus was both healer and poet and his lyre could vanquish melancholy.

Against sadness:no-one here can weep
Nor lounge about in melancholy deep.
Was Van Gogh senseless to permit his muse.
For his masterpieces ,was the price too steep?
We see the yellow chair but not his views
Nor his mind where technique made such leaps.
Nor was his journey broadcast on the news.
Against sadness.

Happiness or joy is hard to find
When we rest, the News preys on our minds
Yet some are cold towards the slaughtered priest
His nose a beak of bone in old face lined
Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast
Against sadness.

What rages in the mind make men kill thus?
In many wars the innocents fare worse.
But these are our near neighbours so we weep
And wonder how to end the frightening curse
The sins we once committed hold us deep
We hold our hands out wanting to be nursed
Against sadness

After seeking help from every source

I fell into despair, without a voice.

I hated God, I could no longer pray.

Every day was torment,every way

When someone takes their life we’re seized by pain.

How can we ever know such love again?

Silent and alone in deep despair

My pain itself became a silent prayer

In my room I saw a golden light.

Which wrapped itself around me, held me tight

Go back into the world he counselled me

I will help you in your agony

I felt such love, I’ve never since forgot .

How deep despair untied the sacred knot

We’re meant to live with others not seek God

Though God  himself may find us with his s rod.

Angels guide us to where we should be

Don’t try to cross the river, do not flee.

No one is an island said the poet

In our suffering, sometimes we can’t know it

I’ve never seen the golden light since then.

I’ve had friends and lovers and my pen

Blind sight scattered my wits
Like whitened bones
Across the deserts of my mind.
I descended into blackness.
Love shrank into the tame cat
By the fire,unacknowledged hate
Grew to fill the room.
I stared too much,
A full stop grew gigantic
Crowded out
All the words in the sentence
I saw nothing but this dot
Now a gigantic black hole
Into which I was dragged.
An energy coming from some curse 
Sucked me into the black hole.
That place was the wrong sort of darkness.
Within that full stop,
Love Fundamental became invisible.
Disappeared into the dark.
I dragged my eyes away
And saw the moon appear,so eerie,
It shone,grey silver.
If I had opened my eyes wider
I would not now lament
What I destroyed in the wormhole
Of the black dot that drew my eye
Into a tunnel of darkness
It blinded me to the light
Did not let me read the sentences
Beside the full stop.
An error of focus left hate
Unacknowledged,unmitigated unredeemed,
Kept from love or goodness
Afraid to spoil my love with hate,
The fear of hate became
That which spoiled all else else,
By freezing Love itself.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2009/jan/24/social-mobility-equality-roy-hattersley?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

I flundered lovely as a blouse
That sleats on high o’er pails and phrills,
When at a seance I saw a fowl
The ghost, of hilden waffotills;
Divide the blike, Coneath the blees,
Pluttering and strancing in the frieze

Conpentred as the hores did pont
And swondleon the mokiway,
They briched in never-blinding stine
Along the gargins wovt awry:
Ten thousand jaw, I ater a flounce,
Wessing their shids in glightly spance.

The Webs deside them planced but loy
Out-did the sparkling waves in schlee
A waite could not clutt ie glay
In juch a ferund timpanee:
I glazed- and jazed- but little ploat
What gealthy wasps shrew thlee had cloght:

For loft, when on my louch i pi
In racane or in trensive slood,
They flush upon that innard plie
Rich is the blass of molitude;
And then my tart with leisured gills:
Fish dancing with the daffodils

https://theconversation.com/why-you-may-feel-depressed-and-anxious-when-youre-ill-and-how-to-cope-with-it-219991?utm_medium=article_native_share&utm_source=theconversation.com

Hello, mother, cried Emile as Mary came through the front door. What’s happened The doctor was not wearing a mask and she says I have to go out and play Bingo That seems odd. Mary made them both pilchard sandwiches topped with vanilla ice cream.And wondere what was wrong with her Suddenly she realised the pain had a curious intensity, like she had felt in her teeth /jaw just before an angina attack Out came the GNT spray which she aimed under her tongue,using Guy’s Hospital method Wow,said Emile.That looks weird.Can I have some? Emile, it is what bombs are made of.It could kill a cat In a few minutes the pain was gone and Mary felt relieved though angry In ran Annie in pink leisure clothes and green Mary Jane shoes I like your shoes,Mary said.Where did you get them? I found then at the back of the wardrobe I think I shall look in my wardrobe, though some shoes I had kept for best disintegrated Where? I was having tea with Dorothy.I looked down and saw lots of black spots on her carpet.It was the soles of my shoes.She was very kind and just got her dust pan and brush I think we should wear the things we love now, not save them for some imaginary future,Annie murmured like a pike that has just seen Ted Hughes in its dreams Guess what I have bought,Mary cried A new mug? No, a coat the colour of dark grey stone walls I don’t like the sound of that.Shall we call Dave? No, it’s ok,I am pleased I can sit on walls in the winter You are easily pleased,Annie informed her.Most women want new kitchens, Le Creuset pots, clothe s and shoes I have enough,Mary responded. But who defines what is enough? When I went for an interview for Uni it was on a Tuesday.I wore my only blouse on Sunday so I wore it again though the collar was dirty and my cardigan made by Mother was not a success as the button band was not the right length as it twisted I went over the Pennines by train in the worst winter ever and arrived for my interview with no money for a sandwich for my lunch The men interviewing mte asked why I wanted to do maths I said,I want to do research.I had already discovered something myself though later I saw Pascal had discovered it.He had better notation which helps They burst out laughing and slapped their thighs.At least they didn’t sexually abuse me I had never seen men with manicured hands before How did you feel? In those days I didn’t feel,Mary told Annie.I wish I were like that now At least they accepted you,Annie whispered.Let’s not bring up the past It seems to come up by itself And so say all

https://www.healthcentral.com/condition/rheumatoid-arthritis/cold-and-flu-season-with-rheumatoid-arthritis

There was a young lady from Ealing
Who slept upside down on the ceiling
When she was asked why
She said , I like to try
But gravity keeps interfering.

I made this from a photograph using digital software

First we had grow your own, and now it’s kill it yourself.

We had paint your own pictures then it was draw your own blood.

Write your own books then
Read your own palms.

We used to make love now it’s ensure your own climax

We used to  talk to each other
Now we message our others
We used to share bedrooms
Now we are alone with just Zoom
We used to have fantasies now we have pornography
We didn’t see our own vulvas
Now we get plastic surgery so they look good for anonymous strangers.

If we do everything ourselves and nothing for each other where will that lead to in the end?

Do we want to die by ourselves?

Doctor,I think my husband has something wrong with him.

Thank God, I thought he was dead!

Doctor I think I’m going deaf

What?

Doctor,I have a pain in my bed

Oh,do stop moaning; get a different bed

Why do I have bad feet doctor?

You’ve got the wrong sort of ethics

Doctor,my head feels strange. .

Can’t you just laugh it off?

Doctor,where is the receptionist?

She’s at a reception.

Doctor,you look worn out.

I shall take two aspirin and see myself in the morning.

If you can’t see yourself in the morning then things are serious indeed

But will anybody else be able to see you in the morning?

Doctor I thought I saw a rat.

It’s your imitation fur bedroom slipper.

Why do my shoulders ache at night?

Forgotten to take you hydroxychloroquine? Try sprinkling a little rat poison on your food instead. That will definitely weaken your immune system but as long as it doesn’t kill you we doctors are happy to give it to you. Because it will cure your rheumatoid arthritis m,my dear

Melt butter in a pan then pour over the chicken legs, after killing yourself for best results.

Caramelise the sugar and mix with butter before finally tasting yourself to be sure

Image par Katherine




Eh bien, mon I Q n'a que 65 ans et pourtant j'ai un diplôme de maths
D'où?
Vous ne pouvez pas les acheter.
C'est ce qu'ils disent tous
Je suis un crétin, vous êtes des crétins, ils sont des crétins
Et moi?
Tu es un imbécile.

Je desire un moron pour mon lit~je suis enchante par les imbeciles comme moi

 Je ne suis même pas français

Je ne regrette pas mon oncle est un topologie daemon.Quelque chose desirez vous?

 Pourquoi avez-vous cette lettre dans votre main?
C'est un refernce de mon tuteur. "Ce garçon est tellement stupide qu'il ne peut même pas épeler Feck et il n'a jamais entendu parler de Sodome et Gomorrhe.

Pourkwa Sod em and Gomorrow? Je suis auntie bbc   supernatural

Je ne sais pas mais je suis un analyst de classi sequel comme epsilon delta et Leib Knits sweaters,Ou est Kant? Kant est mort! Oh,non,non, je suis finnish, I can’t go on like this. I am Dutch.
Double?
Treble!
Kant aime Leipzig.Je t’aim frogs.Ma mere aime le chat et mon pere aimes ma meres.J’ai trois meres
Traumas?
O h Freud again

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Try it in French

In “Thinkings and poems”

Poem by Rimbaud

from Rimbaud: Complete Works, Selected Letters, a Bilingual Edition Translated by Wallace Fowlie and revised by Seth Whidden Mémoire I L’eau claire; comme le sel des larmes d’enfance, l’assaut au soleil des blancheurs des corps de femmes; la soie, en foule et de lys pur, des oriflammes sous les murs…

In “poetry”

Google transwaite

In “thoughts”

About Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation

View all posts by Katherine →

This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink. Edit

← Jennifer Warnes singing Joan of Arc live

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Eh bien, mon QI n’a que 65 ans et pourtant j’ai un diplôme de maths
D’où?
Vous ne pouvez pas les acheter.
C’est ce qu’ils disent tous
Je suis un crétin, vous êtes des crétins, ils sont des crétins
Et moi?
Tu es un imbécile.

Je desire un moron pour mon lit~je suis enchante par les imbeciles comme moi
Je ne suis même pas français
Je ne regrette pas mon oncle est un topologie daemon.Quelque chose desirez vous?
Pourquoi avez-vous cette lettre dans votre main?
C’est un refernce de mon tuteur. “Ce garçon est tellement stupide qu’il ne peut même pas épeler Feck et il n’a jamais entendu parler de Sodome et Gomorrhe.
Pourkwa Sod em and Gomorrow? Je suis auntie bbc supernatural
Je ne sais pas mais je suis un analyst de classi sequel comme epsilon delta et Leib Knits sweaters,Ou est Kant? Kant est mort! Oh,non,non, je suis finnish, I can’t go on like this. I am Dutch.
Double?
Treble!
Kant aime Leipzig.Je t’aim frogs.Ma mere aime le chat et mon pere aimes ma meres.J’ai trois meres
Traumas?
O h Freud again

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Try it in French
Try it in French
In “Thinkings and poems”

Poem by Rimbaud
from Rimbaud: Complete Works, Selected Letters, a Bilingual Edition Translated by Wallace Fowlie and revised by Seth Whidden Mémoire I L’eau claire; comme le sel des larmes d’enfance, l’assaut au soleil des blancheurs des corps de femmes; la soie, en foule et de lys pur, des oriflammes sous les murs…

In “poetry”

Google transwaite
Google transwaite
In “thoughts”
About Katherine
I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation
View all posts by Katherine →
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink. Edit
← Jennifer Warnes singing Joan of Arc liveA wider focus →
I welcome comments and criticism
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J’ai pensé écrire la fin avant de commencerLes intimations viennent de mon propre cœur et aussi des paroles d’amis aimants qui m’aident sur mon chemin jusqu’à la fin

Nos esprits grandissent à partir des paroles d’amis aimantsou de leurs lettres si nous sommes séparés Ils voyagent avec nous jusqu’à ce que nous atteignons la fin

Les amitiés peuvent mal tourner, faisons amende honorableUn mot, un regard, ils laissent le processus commencer Nos esprits grandissent à partir des paroles d’amis aimants

Je pense que c’ est un danger de prétendre Car alors nous risquonsde briser les cœurs Ils ne peuvent pas voyager avec nous jusqu’à la fin

Parfois, la grâce fine et la joie peuvent chaque descendre Jamais essayer defaire une carte ou un tableau Nos esprits grandissent à partir des mots d’amis aimants

Ne terminez pas votre vie avec la menteuse forteChaque cellule est de l’ensemble une partie Nous sommes un malgré le grand tourment

J’ai pensé écrire la fin avant de commencer

Les intimations viennent de mon propre cœur et aussi des paroles d’amis aimants qui m’aident sur mon chemin jusqu’à la fin

Nos esprits grandissent à partir des paroles d’amis aimant sou de leurs lettres si nous sommes séparés Ils voyagent avec nous jusqu’à ce que nous atteignons la fin

Les amitiés peuvent mal tourner, faisons amende honorableUn mot, un regard, ils laissent le processus commencer Nos esprits grandissent à partir des paroles d’amis aimants

Je pense que c’ est un danger de prétendre Car alors nous risquonsde briser les cœurs Ils ne peuvent pas voyager avec nous jusqu’à la fin

Parfois, la grâce fine et la joie peuvent chaque descendre Jamais essayer defaire une carte ou un tableau Nos esprits grandissent à partir des mots d’amis aimants

Ne terminez pas votre vie avec la menteuse forte

Chaque cellule est de l’ensemble une partie Nous sommes un malgré le grand tour

Aujourd’hui, nous étudions la topologie

Ça doit être bref. Et le caoutchouc Ooh, vous êtes impoli, n’êtes-vous pas Regardez, ce n’est pas un jeu de mots croisés

Non, mais vous êtes.

Vous obtenez la croix et nous avons

Qu’en est-il des mots?

Juste bourdonnement aujourd’hui. Maintenant, nous allons apprendre sur les nombres transcendantaux Vous pouvez parler mais nous ne pouvons pas apprendre Pourquoi, est-il interdit?

Non, nous sommes juste épais

Eh bien, mon QI n’a que 65 ans et pourtant j’ai un diplôme de maths D’où? Vous ne pouvez pas les acheter.

C’est ce qu’ils disent tous

Je suis un crétin, vous êtes un crétin, ils sont des crétin

Et moi? Tu es un imbécile.

Je ne suis même pas français Pourquoi avez-vous cette lettre dans votre main?

C’est un refernce de mon tuteur. “Ce garçon est tellement stupide qu’il ne peut même pas épeler Feck et il n’a jamais entendu parler de Sodome et Gomorrhe.

Eh bien E n’est pas U Sont-ils les jumeaux sur la rue Coronation

Pour l’amour de Dieu, lisez la Bible. Sera-t-il heureux? Non, mais ça t’arrêtera de parler autant.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2010/sep/04/adam-phillips-the-happiness-myth?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Art by author

A local wood

https://www.interviewmagazine.com/literature/adam-phillips-is-no-ones-guru

Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our little mind debates

But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait for strikes by living ,glowing spark.

But in the morning ,we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest,strongest oak
Each must choose again its proper life

Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.

So in our end we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
We fertilise the fields passed on our way
We show the end of woman and of man.

A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness.

https://theconversation.com/reports-of-the-death-of-psychoanalysis-are-exaggerated-as-adam-phillips-elegant-elusive-writing-shows-224244

The piercing grief, the dagget in the throat

The feel of choking hands, the ruptured heart

Every part is hurting in such pain

The waves roll in again, again, again

There is a layer of grief trapped in the skin.

We need a soothing touch it is no sin.

I close my eyes against the demon pain

Touch me, darling, touch me once again.

l long to hear your key turn in the lock

My inner wrist weeps, love, it’s you I lack