by compound complex 60 Replies latest watchtower child-abuse
It seemed but yesterday though, Heaven knows,
it has been millenia since I embarked upon that
peaceful, dusty sleep.
Then, so startling, comes the clarion call from
quickened legions that the hour has arrived to
rise and be awake.
The celebration of Earth and Moon beckons that
all rejoice as Sky unfolds and the Earth proceeds
to kiss the Moon ...
A deliciously cool delta breeze wafts over me and makes an otherwise sun-drenched day a total pleasure.
I glance upward and sight a gibbous moon turned downward in an expanse of faded blue, a clipped Queen of the Sky pouring out her luscious, silvery lunar potion. The plump, rolling hills in the distance - an uncharacteristic mist undulates over their rolls and ravines - remind me of my frequent mind-journeys to Umbria. Lengthy flat patches of umber, of sienna are crisscrossed by robust vineyards, laid out in an orderly manner that is quite at odds with the jumble of native vegetation.
Every time I venture forth I observe something new ... with my eyes ... with my imagination....
Melancholia has me by the nape of the neck . . .
She is wily, she is cruel; and though her name be a model of deceptive euphony, she lies in wait, adorned in the modest attire of a disappointed madonna.
Her grip is iron and she pulls me backward into times past, times nearly and mercifully forgotten but for a brief, cursed remembrance that she, who looks inside me, triggers.
In strange and bitter irony, this briefest recollection of a fleeting joy the Sorrowing One wishes me to savor ruefully, thereby accepting the deeply abiding and pervading anguish of her baleful existence . . . of her burning essence.
She has dredged up my past. She has stolen my present. She has sabotaged my future.
I just pressed the figurative LIKE button....
Dearest Coco and Eva Luna,
I hid out in the library too, as a battered kid. Reading was a fabulous escape, so many wonderful stories. I'm afraid I am still an escapist when it comes to reading. My favorite library was next to my school, an old beautiful stone building with wooden floors and charming alcoves where I could sit and read until closing. Fortunately the librarians were kind and often recommended books, especially the Newbery Award winners. I'm still grateful, 50 years later.
I'm still grateful, 50 years later.
Hortensia
We will never forget; a dear childhood friend gave me a photo she had taken of our beloved, ivy-covered Carnegie Library before it was razed. In my opinion, the modern edifice erected in its stead is a desecration of holy ground.
Thanks.
CC
Thank you, doofdaddy!
CC
I have nothing to say, I just wanted to drop in to wave and blow kisses.
Love,
Baba.
So good to see you, dear Baba!
Waves and kisses in return!
Love,
CoCo
Through smudges and nose prints on the plate glass window, I peer upon a winter's garden
gone black from frost, with troughs puddled up with ice and mud that shall never thaw . . .
Thus is and goes my heart, whose insides are hidden from clouded eyes and soul, blackened
from a rutted pain and ne'er, it is certain, to feel the warmth of spring's caressing love.
