The world is fading away. I am not in it any more. I am in another place. A dark place. I can see nothing except blurs. I look at a piece of paper with writing on and it is blank to me. There is no writing on it. I write over the writing that is already there. I cannot see my writing either. I am told I have made a mess.

The world is gone now. I have to say goodbye to it. It is not part of me any more and I am not part if it. I do not hear people speaking to me. I cannot follow a conversation. I am not in this world.

I cannot see faces. I do not know who is who, and they don’t tell me either. I have to guess. They think I know and however many times I tell them that I don’t know who they are they don’t take it in. I apologise to people because I haven’t waved or smiled when they have waved and smiled at me. They say it is ok, but they don’t realise that I want to be in contact with them – that they must come close to me and touch me and say their name. They don’t realise that to then ignore me because I can’t see them cuts me out of human society and makes me isolated and desperately lonely in my world of darkness. I am cut off. Not part of the human race.

I sit. At home I sit. What can I do? Long hours stretch in front of me. I cannot read. I cannot watch television. I cannot take a walk out because I can’t walk. I can’t put a CD on because I can’t see to do it. I can’t ask My husband to do it because he is already too busy or he is watching television or on his computer, or too tired. I sit. In the dark. Doing NOTHING. Nearly going mad. How can I live like this?

I want a drink. I cannot make one. I cannot bother my husband again. I get hungry. I cannot even make a sandwich. I am useless. Helpless, like a baby.

I go to bed. I lie on the bed. In darkness. There is no life. Just darkness. Do I exist?

My body hurts, and my heart hurts too.

I cannot see or feel my clothes. When I try to dress, I cannot find things because I cannot feel. When I do find something I cannot find out which is the right way up or if it is inside out. I cannot find the arms. I cannot dress. I cannot see my hair. Is it ok or not? I cannot see my face in the mirror. I cannot see if I am dressed ok or if I am presentable. I cannot see colours. I don’t know if my colours clash. I cannot see if my clothes are clean. I spill my food down me because I cannot see the food on my plate or my fork and if it is not on my fork properly it goes down me. I am like a baby.

My world has gone. I have no world now. Except darkness.


And what is on the ground?
Mud, dirt, stones,
Your face rubbed in the dirt,
The stones cutting your face,
Until blood runs,
You lie there helpless,
How do you get up?
Your brain crazed,
You see your blood on the ground,
And suddnly it is not yours,
But that of Another,
Two thousand years ago,
And there, on the ground,
You find eternal life


Surrounds the one
Who truly does Love’s will,
Love is not a clanging cymbal,
Announcing your prowess, seeking
For glorification,
I hear it all,
And cringe

Love is
Gentle, seeks not
To boast, nor dwells in pride,
Real love does not attack the weak,
Nor masks
The truth,
But lives in dying to the Self,
Steps back from the limelight,
Silently waits,


What is left deep in my heart
When I am stripped?
I remeber it well,
The day I was on all fours
Drooling at the mouth like an animal,
Playing out some goddamned drama on a bed,
All eyes upon me,
Though naked except for my skin,
And even that was coming off,
I remember you walking away,
You who bore me and saw me naked the day I was born,
But now my skin was open,
Cancer had done its worst,
And your words said it all,
“Where is your God now?”
But inside all of that pain I knew
That it is not the skin that contains God,
But the heart within,
And that day above all
I heard Him cry
From deep within me,
Deep guttural cries,
As if the whole Creation was groaning,
As if in the pangs of childbirth,
Oh what a birthing this was,
For here, now, in this place,
I heard above all the words
“I am with you. I am Suffering itself. You are not alone.”


An experience that I had yesterday. Another wilderness one

Except for the
Creaking of my wheelchair
I make my way tortuously
The aisle
Of the church where the Holy One
Dwells in majesty, light
In my dark night,
I tap

with my
Stick, shattering
the cold silence, no one
Helps though I scatter the pews, bump
Them all
I am left alone in darkness
Bruised and beaten, reeling
From the cold shock
Of ice

I reach
The front battered
By the rods of ice, sit
Confused, bewildered, paralysed,
I don’t
Know where
To turn,
Hitting pews, I find no space, turn,
Halting, painfully, make
Make my shocked way back
All eyes on me

I squirm crying,
I find the back, someone comes now,
“Stay here
They say,”
I am relegated to the
Outer limits, alone,
I am broken,
Like Him