Grey…. I am not sure about this…….it’s more a pewter, but dull….
dull ……. oh…. so ….. dull…..”Dull as ditch water”, a grump riddled parent used to bark…… not about the weather, but about some creative piece I had written or drawn……
Dull – as – ditch – water………
I remember winters then. I remember snowdrifts, sledges, being pulled, but being scared, snowballs in the face ….. getting frozen toes and jolly red cheeks…..soaking wet socks, the crisp nakedness of undisturbed fallen snow; where has it all gone?
oh, how I loved winter, then.
It’s this grey….. this grey that hangs around like a splodge of badly mixed paints, looming, ready to tip all over my world… but it never happens….. not today anyway…… it’s just grey……
Like my mood: incubating….. not dull, no…….never that.
Ashah ashah ashah ashah….wind rattles
my face, my life.
Leather, the reins
as I steam through dark night.
Breath seems so tight,
so determined, so hard
that my howling is cutting,
scarring the world.
I ride through the bracken
not afraid of Dark Horse
for she and me shatter
boundaries with force.
This terror is screaming
in sinew and vein
as my body convulses;
Ashah ashah ashah ashah…..
* dedicating this to all who suffer with invisible illness.*
There is a little piece of sky falling in my heart, …. it falls right into my hands. I say to sky: “Sky, why are you so blue?” Sky replies: “I am blue because I am your enriched creative expression. I fell into your hands as a gift from your heart…… I am your voice, your stroke of the brush, the architect of your words…. I am fuel for your creation; use me.” I look back at sky and see rainclouds gathering. “And what are these clouds about you in my hands?” asked I…. “They are the tears in me who have gathered like a reservoir of grief which pour upon your life.” “Ah” say I, “I know this all too well as the ground is too wet for me feet to feel safe upon it…… so I stare down instead of looking up at you and your brilliance of Blue.”
I pootle along past glorious fields which yesterday made my heart sing, the flatness of the Fen. I ask myself: Why has it changed today? why am I low?…. For a tiny chip of a moment I shift inside… expansion and warmth bubble in me like a hot spring of healing waters. All too soon it’s gone again, yet at least I know that somewhere inside there is still a touch of the warming oils of experience. And tomorrow is another day. Like
Written when the veil has come down and is around my shoulders. Written in honour of ALL who travel with black dog somewhere around, nearby and who wonder why …..yet all will be well.
He doesn’t bite,
this black, silent dog.
He just catches your darkened eye
in a quick skewed glance,
keeping you captive with his heavy stare
and drops down his silken swaddling cloth,
don’t you make a fuss now.
You don’t ask for this-
he just does it…..
you the prisoner,
he the stumm, cold jailer
who comes and goes
at his own pleasure.
Shake out of it.
Pull yourself together.
You’ve got so much to be thankful for.
They call him Depression
and pump you, his captive,
the silenced manekin with drugs….
They hope black dog will be gone…..
But we know, black dog and I
that he lifts the veil off, that swaddled cloth,
as fast as he dropped it on,
only at his choosing;
not theirs nor mine, but his.
I read a cheerful Facebook post just now:
share the light
be the light”.
I sat feeling full, so full and joyFul(l) too….
I attempt to travel Light
I hope I live Light
I certainly desire to share Light
I believe I AM Light in many parts….
and some people need to be heavy too
as being Light sends us off the planet…..
here I go…..
Catch my feet willya?!
from: “My Light World: The journal of a girl who comes with perfect imperfections!”
Graphics with thanks: Robyn Nola – Appreciation and Love for Nature. (Facebook)
I have been longing for this day…..
Today is the Still Point….
we sit at this pivotal quiet place
for tomorrow more light shall come,
seeping in under the door
and breaking the darkness of sleeping night.
The skies sit like non risen dough, heavy and flat. Water swims on pavements and roads as if oozing from the earth and all feels very Novemberly; dank, dark, cold as winter earth. The darkness of my shelter is heavier than ever. I, like the skies feel heavy and flat as my emotions want to ooze from every pore. I would like to gauge holes in my roof to allow the joyous light into every corner, so desperate is my longing. I would like to peel off the layers of a heavy life and tucking them into an envelope, I would post them off to the “Department for Heavy Lives”….. Perhaps they have a Joyback scheme. If they did have such a place, I would peel and pare until every joyless thought and action were replaced with Autumn’s Acacia golds, Beech rusts and the chestnuttiness of the faithful Oak………. Yet for now, dancing with my thoughts and words are enough to heal cold, empty spaces in me.