The rolling of the rain
shattering the silence
on muddy windowpanes….
Fire embers glowing hot & red
while bare feet stamp
defiantely on their way to bed.
Once she knew, or thought she did,
of where the code on how to live,
Yet now, mellow lines within
her ageing skin,
carry the stories of
of her kith and kin …..
Like rain on dirty glass
is never to be truly clean
so the tears which flow,
tumbling, quietly down between
the voices in her scrambled mind,
always, she would know,
her roots are never to be left behind.
Sometimes it’s so difficult to find the words for that eternal, bottomless pit of soul screaming that wants to spew out of my weeping mouth and
throw itself against the wall in utter frustration….surely this is the hell we have been led to believe is without ourselves? The little bit of hell I create for myself, I create for you too as you do for me….
Just as joy and laughter are contagious, so are anger, frustration and despair; the Oneness of all things and so it is. Agression, violence, love in abundance, laughter and loving are all parts of the whole and when the balance of these is disturbed then we find discord within the home.
Voices need to blend and balance each other. When one part rises and sings others are stiller, holding the space for the leading sounds….. Cacophony brings suffering…… I see it; I know it.