Month: July 2018

TAKE, EAT ME

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, Uncategorized13 Comments

“This is my Body”
“Take, eat”
Your Body meets mine
The two mingle
Both broken
Both wounded
Both scarred
Once my body was broken
Oh wait, no,
More than once
A million times
Or so it seems
Beaten
Bruised
Hacked
Our Bodies come together
In an ecstasy of love
For the wounds that each one bore
You once died on a Cross of wood
I died on a cold hard floor
Both of us
Were brought back to life
But oh, the memories
And still the murderers live
Still they crucify me
Sadists, all
Ruthless
Daily, I am crucified with You
Daily, I bear Your crucifixion in my body
Do bodies matter?
Yes, they do
My woman’s body matters
And, like You,
I hang, naked
On my Cross
Exposed
My woman’s body
Yes, I will take
And eat You
Just like I am eaten every day
Alive

DECEPTIONS

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When this life is over as sure it soon will be
Where then will the birdsong go that joined in tune for me?
Is there then another life awaiting in the wings?
Or will the dust that’s on the ground become the thing that stings?

Can we imagine our lives gone and nothing to remain
Except the call of the mourning dove in grief for a life that wanes?
We make up talk of heaven above a place where we will go
But do we know it’s really there, that what we’re taught is so?

How many lies have we believed in our time on this earth?
Deceptions cruel that cut our hearts in pieces of no worth
How many masks have people worn when talking love to us?
How many words that were of nought creating such a buzz?

Some tell us that we will be safe no fear must then remain
Reaching out and speaking words that are their own refrain
Illusions live within these words to wrap around our soul
One day my friend your pain will go and then you will be whole

So take this Bread I offer you believe in what I say
It will go in be part of you until another day
But soon that Bread becomes as nought, broken like your life
And words remembered come to you and cut you like a knife

And so the dust will be your home the soil will be your clay
Hardened like your heart within no words now can you pray
Just leave me now to die my death alone in this bad world
Illusions gone and lies all dead deceptions all unfurled

PROTECTION?

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You move
Towards me
In gentleness
In love
But I
Damaged
Wounded
Draw back
Though it is not what I want
Yet I must say Goodbye
Protection
Is the name of the game
But this is not a game
This is deadly serious
Nothing must be risked
Life hangs on the edge of a cliff
Precariously balanced
Two ways
One leads to death
The other to life
Too many wounds
Fester
Grow
I cannot risk
And so death comes

LOST SOULS

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My heart aches tonight
For the balm of your love
For the safety of your knowing
And mine
But can two souls ever
Truly know
Touch each other
In the distance
I see a hand
Reach out
But find I cannot reach
It is too far
And too late
Far too late
The moment has gone
And you are lost to me
I know
That all must end
That fear took its toll
I took the safer way
And now I am lost

IN EVENING’S BREEZE YOU CAME

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In evening’s breeze You come to me
Caressing my face with tenderness
Cooling the passions that none can see

From all earth’s pain I would be free
And all of my soul’s heaviness
In evening’s breeze You come to me

I sit beside the willow tree
For You to fill my emptiness
Cooling the passions that none can see

I wondered if truly I could be
Given light in my distress
In evening’s breeze You came to me

My soul was healed, together we
Entwined our hearts forever blessed
In evening’s breeze You came to me
Cooling the passions that none can see

CELESTIAL LIGHT

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Open the door to celestial light,
That heaviness of heart cannot destroy,
Dwell in that which dispels the darkness of the night.

Find the place where heaven’s beams shine so bright,
Where earth’s dark arrows can’t destroy
Open the door to celestial light.

The door may be heavy, you must fight,
Every single method now employ,
Dwell in that which destroys the darkness of the night.

Let the powers of darkness take their flight,
Know that you can have eternal joy,
Open the door to celestial light.

Don’t let your dark night cloud your sight,
Or be seduced by evil’s clever ploy,
Dwell in that which destroys the darkness of the night.

Heaven’s glory seeks to lift you from your plight,
Let not dark powers with your spirit toy,
Open the door to celestial light,
Dwell in that which destroys the darkness of the night.

ANGEL

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An angel came that day
Though it may not have seemed like one
Disturbed the waters of your life
I heard your cries of pain
And heard as I listened
The groaning of the Universe
As if the Universe itself
Was held in the pangs of childbirth
For were we not told
That even stones can cry out
For All is One
And One is All
And the Spirit that rules the Universe
That created all things
Animate and inanimate
Is in All
And as the stone is cast
From the hands of what seems like the devil
Into your life
Disturbing you
Afrighting you
Do not fear
For it may be an angel in disguise
Bringing you to healing
Bringing to birth
Your true essence
Your true self

CONTROL

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Control…
What’s control?
Control be gone
Like the devil it is
Seductive
Manipulating
Maiming
Let me be wild
Like the roaring lion
Let me roar with the wind
Dance in the sun
Gyrate in the rain
Let me be naked
Let me be free
Loose my bonds
And those of all the innocent ones
Who bleed

TOUCH ME

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, Uncategorized24 Comments

Touch me
With your wildness
The rhythm of your life
Magnetic
Exuberant
But wild
Stir me up
And dance with me
In the wild anger
The wild joy
The wild compassion
That seeks souls
Shout with me
About injustice
And innocent blood shed
Take me to the mountains
The high places
The rocks
Where wildness finds its home
Oh wildness
Touch me
Take me

THE SMILING FARMHOUSE

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THIS POEM IS ABOUT THE FARMHOUSE AT MY GRANDPARENTS’ FARM WHERE I USED TO GO AS A CHILD

There were lilac trees at the back of the farmhouse,
In many different hues of purple,
The scent was heady, in the summer’s air,
I will never forget those days,
A child could not have been happier,
The farmhouse now is gone.

Why should such wonderful things be gone?
Nothing was like the farmhouse,
No other place could I have been happier,
I remember the beautiful purple,
And all those heady days,
In the lilac scented air.

I breathed deeply in the intoxicating air,
But now those days are gone,
To be filled with sadder days,
No longer can I visit the farmhouse,
Or feast my eyes on hues of purple,
Can I ever be happier?

Maybe one day I’ll be happier,
And breathe a fresher air,
Air filled with reminders of purple
Flowers that are not gone
Just like those at the back of the farmhouse,
I will await those days.

Maybe soon there’ll be days
That make me feel much happier,
Though now there is no farmhouse,
There still can be scented air,
These are the things that can never be gone,
Days filled with memories of purple.

Now the sky looks purple,
Heralding the return of the days
That cannot ever truly be gone,
I could not now be happier,
My lungs fill with the scented air,
Reminiscent of the farmhouse

The farmhouse smiled in the summer days, when I stayed,
I played beneath the purple lilac never happier,
Swathes of blossom swayed in the air, such memories will never be gone.

CRUNCH

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Crunch, beneath my feet,
Splinters ,
Red And gold and brown,
Rich colours sharp as glass,
Now crushed with jagged points
Daggers drawing blood.

“Give me the Spring,” i pleaded,
“Just the Spring,
And then do what you will.”

I knew the score,
Although i tried to hide,
Denied the truth i knew inside.
There were no signs that i could see,
Nor pain to waken fear,
Until the day that red appeared,
The blood of autumn’s death.

I’d had my Spring,
My summer too,
Now autumn brought me winter’s death,
Red, fading into white, and blue.

HOLES

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I want to drop down a hole,
You know…….
A really BIG one
I am searching for that hole
And all over,
There are holes
In roads
In pavements
Massive ones with men in yellow hats looking down them
Scratching heads
Five or six of them
Peering
Bending over
What is IN those holes?
They breed
These holes
Soon our town will be one big hole
Which is no good for me
Because I want to be in a hole all on my own
Does anyone know of any good holes?

NIGHTMARES

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Nightmares
Awaken me
With a nauseating
Jolt and once again I am plunged
Into
A pit
Of darkness that sucks me into
A silent living hell
I try to crawl
Am trapped

I sit
On the edge of
A bed drenched in sweat hot
With the heat of the chase once more
Praying
In pain
For this agony to go, rest
In the Presence of One
Who descended
To hell

He knows
What my hell is
Sits beside me gently
Waiting until the dark is gone
Once more
I yawn
And sleep again the sleep of the
Just knowing that one day
Justice will come
And reign

TOUCH ME

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, Uncategorized10 Comments

As I sit here on my bed in the early morning sun I feel as I do every morning, the deepest longing within me. It is like an emptiness that can never be filled. A yearning. An aching. This feeling is so familiar to me now. Tears seem pointless. They cannot do any good. They cannot change anything. And yet sometimes they flow. And when they do, they come out like a volcano erupting. Spewing out all the grief, the longing, and the pain that is inside me.

Fear. There is so much fear. My life is lived in fear. For I am not in control of it. Others are. And others are not always merciful. I have discovered the sheer fragility of life. Sometimes I feel I hang like a thread. Sometimes though, life is a dead weight around my neck. I would gladly dispense with it. How can I carry such a weight?

For some, there are easy, facile answers. Because that is how most operate. There HAS to be an answer. A fix. For some, there is no facing this tragedy that has befallen me. It just cannot BE. And so, I am judged. Because I already have my answer. And there IS no fix. My answer is that I have to endure.

It is fear that stops people from coming near to me. From truly entering into my world. Sometimes I get kisses. But they are fleeting. The person is soon gone. I yearn to talk. To tell them about my world. To at least give them a glimpse of it. But no one has time. No one has time to stop by a blind person in a wheelchair and listen. To break the loneliness. The isolation.

Inside, I yearn. I crave. I am dying of thirst. Thirsting for love. But it does not exist. At least not where I am.

And so I wake. Every morning I wake, thirsty. Longing. Aching. Yet afraid. Because I know that that for which I yearn does not exist. I shake within me. If only someone would TOUCH me. Just a touch. So simple. Yet so profound. Just a touch to say “I care.”

I go away empty handed. Starving. Thirsty. To bear my pain alone.

I return to my bed. A NO-thing. To my world of darkness. A darkness that is impenetrable. Impenetrable because no one wants to reach out. And I have learned. And I have learned well – this is mine to bear alone.

Tears prick the back of my eyes. But wait. They are not tears. They are a wailing, and a howling. They roar like a volcano. It feels like the whole earth is roaring. I am surrounded by roaring. I AM the roaring. But no one hears. Who wants to be under a volcano?

Years stretch in front of me. How many more years can I bear? Hear my cry. Hear my plea. Touch me. Hold me. Love me.

SURVIVAL

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THIS WAS WRITTEN WHEN I WAS ALMOST BLIND BUT NOT QUITE

There were three of us there that day – all living in hope. As I sit here in the same spot today, with my binoculars, that have been redundant for so long now, I live with a wonderful memory. I make a decision. With shaking hands I lift the binoculars to my eyes, feeling that familiar thrill once again. I still have hope. I train them on the water in the dyke at the edge of the fields, and despite my near blindness, with joy and amazement I realise that I can see the ripple of the water, and as I move them so that they are pointed at the fields, I can just see that they are sporting luxuriant early Spring growth of sugar beet and wheat, in a depth of green such as I have never seen before. The winter has been mild, and nature knows it. I, too, know it, and know that there are greater things to come.

I am at Black Bank, an isolated spot out near the road alongside the River Trent, close to East Butterwick. It is so long since I have been here, but I recall that wonderful day in the late summer, just before I received my cancer diagnosis. The fields then were full of ripened golden wheat, reflecting the fullness we were feeling in our hearts. We were watching for ospreys heading South on their long and dangerous journey to warmer climes. Often, they had passed by this spot, and spent a week in the surrounding area, fishing for food in the many angling ponds round about. The day was golden, in more ways than one – the sun shone, the corn glowed, and all seemed right with the world. Little did I know that I was about to embark on my own own most dangerous journey of all.

We were the first to arrive- my husband and I, that is, complete with two dogs – rough collies. We thought we were to be alone. Not many people knew about this spot, and that ospreys could sometimes be seen here at certain times of the year. Suddenly, we heard the sound of an approaching motor bike, and as it pulled up beside us, we knew it to be our friend, Roger, who was well known for his love of raptors.

“Seen anything?” He asked
“Nothing yet,” we replied.
We were prepared to wait all day.

I had become captivated some years ago by Lady, the oldest surviving breeding osprey in the U.K. The species had almost become extinct in our country at one time, but now, through the efforts of many dedicated people, they had been saved. I wondered if ever, on her way from her nest in Scotland to warmer climes, she would pass by this spot. This was her twenty second year of breeding, and each year, in the Spring, everyone waited nervously to see if she would re-appear for another breeding season. She was so old that it always seemed like a miracle now, every time she returned. A miracle of survival. Three years later I would be again nervously waiting, to see if there had been another miracle of survival – my own. As I awaited the news, once again, I watched the webcam in the Scottish glen where Lady had her nest, to see if she returned, hardly daring to believe that she might, but knowing that if she did , I too would survive. She did return, and the very next day I was told that the chemo had worked, amazingly, since my cancer had been so severe and widespread, and advanced, and I had been expected to die.

The three of us kept our binoculars trained on the skies, and the distant hedges. It felt like a sacred spot. We knew that whatever happened, there would be SOMETHING there to see.

When not scanning the skies, we chatted idly. At one point I got the dogs out of the car, and took them for a walk down the tiny narrow lane that we were on. I felt exhausted, and hardly knew how to keep going. Unbeknown to me, the cancer in my body had already taken hold, and I struggled – though I was only sixty three. I put it down to age. The heat overwhelmed me, and I was glad to get back to the car.

As the afternoon, and the sun, began to die on us we realised that we probably were not going to see an osprey THAT day. As we were thinking about packing up and going home, suddenly, to the left of us, there was a dart of colour. Electric blue, and a kingfisher landed on a branch. Such a tiny bird – so different to the osprey – but just as thrilling. I had never seen a kingfisher close to, and my heart danced and sang as I beheld this wonderful sight. Its wings did not throb and beat powerfully like those of the osprey, and it did not soar high in the sky, but this tiny thing had a power all of its own. At that moment I felt I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life before. I was reminded of how, some years earlier, the kingfisher had proved itself to be a survivor too. It had been a long, hard winter, and the ponds had all completely frozen. So many birds had perished, and, as we shared our grief with the Park Ranger, suddenly, he exclaimed,
“Look at THAT.”
He pointed towards the bird table that was positioned just outside the Centre. We looked, but by that time it had gone. A lone kingfisher eating BREAD. We had thought that all the kingfishers would have perished, along with so many other species, as they only eat fish. But this lone kingfisher had found a way to survive – by changing its way of eating! On that day, I learnt that sometimes, in order to survive, we have to change our way of doing things, and do something almost unheard of. Surviving is not always easy because we have to be open to doing the unthinkable. But deep inside us, we all have a well, from which we can drink, and we have no idea that it is such a deep well until we are in dire difficulty, and as we attempt to drink from it, we find how deep it is.

HERE IT IS AGAIN

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Here it is again
The morning
Coming round with regularity
It doesn’t seem like eight hours since I went to sleep
It seems like minutes
The sun in the sky
Hot as ever
Sizzling us in its ferocity
I feel like bacon
Sizzling in a pan
Burning at the edges
How long will you take to eat me?

GOLDEN CUP

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Golden cup, I drink from you
Gone is the bitter taste of sadness
Now I sart my life anew

So much pain I have been through
Yet my heart is filled with gladness
Golden cup, I drink from you

Many said it was a witches brew
What I endured so heinous
Now I start my life anew

Through it all I simply grew
Knowing then what was so precious
Golden cup I drink from you

None of this would I undo
Even though I walk in darkness
Golden cup I drink from you
Now I start my life anew

KNOWING NOTHING

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I know today
That I know nothing
And as I shrink,
You grow
Once I could see
Now I am blind
The path ahead was clear
Now I see nothing
If I look forwards
I learn nothing
Except that I am blind
And so I have no choice
Except to look inwards
For in looking inwards
I do not need my eyes
And yet
Without eyes
I see far more looking inwards
Than ever I could with my eyes
And as I travel inwards
I see
That I know nothing
Except that by grace
I will be saved
And what is better
To see the path ahead
And feel sure
Or to travel inwards
And know that I know nothing
At all
And thereby
To find my true self?

JOURNEY’S END

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A couple of years ago I was to possibly have surgery that MIGHT have got my eyesight back. However, in the end they could not perform the surgery. I wrote the following piem about that time. Now, two years on, I am blinder than I was then. Still feeling the darkness, but knowing that I luve in the light.

Winding roads in the dreary grey of dusk
Neither day nor night, a time of limbo
My life discarded like an empty husk
Time now doesn’t even have a window
Tortuous the journey, never ending
In the greyness of my life, no clear line
But soon, growing dark will be descending
This night for a clearer light I will pine
How will I ever reach my journey’s end
Fumbling in the fog that plagues my eyes?
Is there a message clear that I can send?
Truthful words, honest and without disguise
I fear the dark, please help me on my way
Till journey’s end, and then a better day

INNER VOICE

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Inner
Voice do you speak
In dulcid tones like dew
Sitting in the early morning
On leaves
Branches
Or do you speak in blaming tones
Telling me of my sin
How do I know
The truth
For long
Siren voices
Sang to me in sweetness
Telling me that they loved me true
Wielding
Secret
Knives ready to stab my soft heart
But now I hear silent
Voices calling
In love
The dew
Is gentle now
Just like the inner voice
Telling me that all is well now
And ever shall be well for love
Shall rule
My heart
Not fear or blame but acceptance
Of all
I am
And now I rest caressed by dew
Refreshed made whole again
Speak, inner voice
The truth

I AM NOT MY OWN

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I return today to the fruiting rowan
Where once I was brought as firstfruits
And offered to the world
In body and in name
And yet possessed
Never to be free
But held in chains
And in the very giving
Was the possessing
For you it was who bore me
Just as the rowan bears its berries
You it was who created me
Named me
You it was who brought me to birth
And now
Do you bear me still?
Soon you are to die
Bearing what?
Confusion reigns
Oh how we are tied
For in me you wish to live
In me you wish to die
I am not my own
And you are not your own
For we are tied by blood
And on the feisty rowan tree
The blood red berries scream
Of the Sacrifice of One
Who gave His life for All
And to Him I am tied for ever

BEYOND THE VEIL

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Many
Voices clamour
Until my head jangles
Like a badly tuned orchestra
Today
I saw
Once again men in black coats, move,
Stately, sombre, until
Life receded
Death reigned

Panic
Struck my raw heart
My soul taken up, black
Was this day, until red appeared
And then
I knew
That there is still life to be lived,
In the midst of which death
Interrupts, flows,
Calls us

Softly
Life caresses
My face, swollen, weeping,
Telling me that life will live on,
Because
That’s what
It does, and death cannot conquer
That which lives for ever
Beyond the veil
So fine

THE END OF TIME

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The world is in motion
Nothing still
As the Dance goes on
Weaving
Gliding
Twisting
Forming patterns like the crystals of a snowflake
Painting pictures
Creating stories
Dying
Birthing
Re-creating
Is there really a time for everything
Or is everything in its time?
And is there a difference?
Soon, time will be no more
The Dance will end
As eternity calls
The picture will be complete
But how will the story end?
As eternity calls
A new book will be opened
A book called “The Book of Life”
And in this book
A day will be like a thousand years
And a thousand years like a day
And here, there will be no endings
Or even beginnings
For time will be no more
In a life that is eternal

RACHAEL AND CHRISTOPHER *Trigger Warning

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Rachael and Christopher were my children
I carried them within my womb,
I loved them with all the love I could give them.

I knitted garments to warm, protect them,
Knowing they would be coming soon,
Rachael and Christopher were my children.

Their tiny bodies within me were hidden,
In my heart there was always room,
I loved them with all the love I could give them.

One dark black day I was hit and beaten,
By my own mother, they were doomed,
Rachael and Christopher were my children.

Things were forced into me, I was bidden,
Never to make life again, I was scum,
I loved them with all the love I could give them.

It didn’t take long, soon I was ridden,
I saw their bodies in the gloom,
Rachael and Christopher were my children.

In anguish I weep, when you hear me, listen,
My babies are now dead in a tomb,
I loved them with all the love I could give them.

One day I saw a little mitten,
The sight of it made me faint and swoon,
Rachael and Christopher were my children.

Inside me, a huge hurting hole, no protection
Could I give to these holy innocents, I groan,
Rachael and Christopher were my children,
I loved them with all the love I could give them

I STOOD ON THE RISE

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I stood on the rise today
Knowing that Someone stood with me
For He had been waiting so long
For me to return
Knowing that at the appointed time I would come
And on that day I was drawn
Unmistakably
Imperceptibly
And in one moment we met
Magnetised
I could not stop
For in another moment in time
Many years ago
I had been given to Him
The first fruits
And in the giving He claimed me for His own
In this place I was named
By name He called me
Down the years
The corridors of time
But time for me is running out
And soon I will be drawn once again
This time by horses
To my final resting place
And on that day too
He will be waiting for me
On the rise
For He sees me coming from afar off
Knowing my time is almost nigh
Arms stretched out to greet me
Speaking my name
And I who can no longer walk
Will run to Him
I who can no longer see
Will behold His face
And in that last embrace I will know
I am “Home at last.”

WALK WITH ME

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DEDICATED TO A VERY SPECIAL FRIEND

Walk with me today, feel the freshening breeze,
Walking on the hill, above the river,
Remember now, this moment only seize
For soon it may be gone, it’s not forever
I know this far to well, but now I live
In the present moment, feel its glory
All that we have is this bright day to give
To the ones we’ve stored to make our story
Take my hand, we’ll walk this path together
I’ll show you things you never saw before
That always you will want to remember
Until we reach one day that farthest shore
But let the wind blow now here as we walk
And let us hear the silence to us talk

THROUGH A DOOR – ENCOUNTER WITH THE POLICE AND SHOCKING PINK SOCKS (by request)

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In my hand I had the keys to the car, and I knew that were I to follow these thoughts through, my husband would not be able to get into the car and drive away. But as I contemplated the thoughts grew only stronger, until suddenly, I KNEW I had to go for it. Break my bonds. Get out of captivity. Find freedom. It mattered not to me that I was so blind that I was unable to see even kerb drops. I would manage SOMEHOW! There was no going back. The plot was hatched. Freedom called.

And so it was that I drove my power chair towards the car, unlocked it, opened the driver’s door, and with a sudden rush of excitement and anticipation, and even amazement that I was doing this, I threw the keys onto the driver’s seat. That done, I left the door of the car ajar, so that it did not lock itself, and hared for the gate of the car park. I had to be quick, before they came out of Mass. I must NOT be caught. It was imperative. This was MY moment. My prison bars disappeared before my very eyes, sightless though I was. NOTHING would stop me now. I NEEDED this!

I got myself to the gates. There was only one way that I could turn – RIGHT, and along the ten foot. As I began to travel along the ten foot, my power chair tilted alarmingly to the left. The surface was far from even, and not only did it slope steeply, but it was also full of potholes. But of course, I could SEE nothing. Terrifying though it felt, I could not give up at the first hurdle. Soon, I would be at the end of the ten foot and onto the pavement. Everything would be fine from there.

The pavement proved to be much better, and although I could not see, I knew that if I followed it to the top, I would be on Frodingham Road. As I approached the corner, I realised that I had no idea where I was going. If I attempted to turn left, I would land at Brittania Corner. From there I could get to my mother’s – but NO, that was. NOT where I wanted to go. I wanted TOTAL freedom. I knew, also, that I would not be able to see the kerb drop, even if there was one, which I DIDN’T know.

And so it was that I turned right. “That’s better,” I thought, as I rolled along. I tried to think where I might go if I managed to get to the end of Frodingham Road, and all I could think of was Chatterton Crescent, where there was a kind of Old People’s Home and sheltered accommodation. I wondered if I could arrive there, unannounced, and say, “Could you shelter me please?” But no, that did not fit the bill at all. It did occur to me that I could turn right, head out of town, and for the hills – only there WEREN’T any hills. Well, not to my knowledge anyway. There might have been a cave or two, but I wasn’t aware of any! I also thought that I might be able to turn left, cross the busy road, and somehow make it to Atkinson’s Warren. Perhaps I could sleep under a tree or something. There were some quite good birds there, and birdwatching had been my best hobby when sighted. I would still be able to hear them, even if I couldn’t see them!

Just as these thoughts were filling my head, I found myself in collision with a huge roll of carpet laid on the pavement. “Damn,” I thought. I had forgotten that there was a carpet shop along there. However, once I had disentangled myself, and gained my composure again, I continued forwards, cursing the fact that carpet shop owners put grey carpets on grey pavements, for virtually blind people to run into. “It shouldn’t be done,” I thought.

Having briefly contemplated what I might do once I got to the end of Frodingham Road, I suddenly realised that I was near to a zebra crossing on my left. This was a road that I COULD cross, and at the other side of the road was my old school, Crosby Junior School. I thought of the huge angel on the corner, and decided that this would not be a bad idea.

It was easy crossing the road, and although I had had no idea in my head of where I was going, I somehow or other felt I was onto a winner. That angel was not there for nothing!

I began trundling along, past my old school, when it finally came to me. I was near to St. George’s Anglican Church. I knew Jonathan, he vicar there, and With a grumbling tummy I thought of Andy who would be inside serving meals in the café. I had no money on me, but maybe they would take pity on me and feed me.

And so, I looked for the footpath that I thought went across the expanse of grass on my left , and so to the Church. But I could no longer see anything, and I did not even know if there WAS a footpath, and if there was one, whether it went straight or diagonal. I strained to see, but I could hardly even see the green of the grass, much less a footpath. There was only one thing for it. FEET. I had FEET! And so, I began feeling for the footpath with my feet. A difficult task, for I could not feel much with my feet, due to the neuropathy from the cancer drugs. But, eventually I found the footpath, turned my power chair onto it, and headed off down it. I still had no idea whether I was going straight or diagonal, for I could see nothing in front of me. My eyesight had almost completely gone. I figured, though, that I must soon be reaching the wall of the Church. I had no idea where to go from there however. But, sure enough, I soon found myself at the corner of the Church building. Although I could not see exactly where the wall of the Church went, I followed it, knowing that there were some doors somewhere to be found. Now white is a colour that If, on a dark background, I can see. And suddenly, there, in front of me was a white door. Phew, I thought.I’m here. I’ve made it! And I pushed on the door – only to find that it was an outhouse! Damn! Where was the door? I looked to my left in a slight panic, and there, about two feet away from me were some big double doors. I pushed them open with my left hand and my feet, whilst at the same time trying to guide my power chair in with my joy stick.

Once inside, the sheer effort of everything, and the emotion of the occasion made me burst into tears. And suddenly, there was Andy. Andy was a godsend. Disabled himself, though not in a wheelchair he was empathetic to the plight of disabled people, and well aware of all their trials and sorrows. He immediately got on the phone to Jonathan, telling him vigorously that that blind lady in a wheelchair was here, and needing help. I just as vigorously yelled so that Jonathan could hear me, that he was not to come. That he was busy. That I did not want to bother him. The reply? I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Those ten minutes were the most comfortable ones that I had had in two and a half years. Andy sat by me, talking to me, with his speech impediment, listening to my pains and sorrows with deep understanding. It was a sacred moment, where two souls met in total understanding of one another.

Eventually Jonathan arrived, and, knowing him well, I held my hand out to him, saying “Jonathan,” and sobbing all over again.

“I’ve run away,” I said.
“Where from?” He asked
“Holy Souls,” I replied.

“Come in here,” Jonathan said. And we went into the Office.

Jonathan knew me well, having been the only one to have visited me during my eight month cancer ordeal. I had been completely naked for all of that eight months, being unable to bear clothes or even a light bedsheet on my body, which itched furiously from head to toe, and that was covered in open sores. But, for Jonathan, I did manage just to put something light over me for a short time. He was the kindest most gentle person that I ever met. We talked about death, and what it might be like to die, and everything else besides. My Catholic priest would have been horrified.

“I bet you’ve been expecting this,” I blubbed to Jonathan.

“Sort of,” he replied.

I garbled out my tale of woe, in between huge gulps and sobs.

“I’m a prisoner,” I said. “But I’ve escaped.”

Then, referring to the massive tree over the road I said, “Can’t I go and sleep under that tree. I don’t want to go home.”

This then led Jonathan to ask where Bob was.
“He’s in Mass at HolySouls,” I said. “Only he might be out now.”

I explained how I had left him in Mass, put the car keys onto his seat in the car – and SKIDDADLED!

In time, we decided that I ought to ring Bob to tell him where I was, at which point he informed me that he had got the police, having reported me as a missing person! The police lady was with him, and, hearing that it was me, wanted to know where I was, as she was coming to see me!

And so it was that there we were, Jonathan and I, waiting on the pavement outside St. George’s for the police to arrive. That tree looked ever more inviting, as I contemplated clink!

And so it was that I found myself explaining to a policewoman that I had run away from my husband and Holy Souls Catholic Church.

“Do you know this man?” She asked, pointing to Jonathan, who was attired in a bright orange shirt.
“Yes, he’s the vicar,” I said.

Then, “I hope you’re not going to put me in clink cos there’s no disabled facilities down there.”

Jonathan just remained quietly looking down onto the pavement, studying goodness knows what. It had turned out to be no ordinary day for him either.

The policewoman informed me that my husband had reported me as missing, having gone off in my power chair, blind, to goodness only knew where. The police had asked how far it could go on one battery charge. Eight miles, my husband had told them. And how fast can it go, they had asked. Four miles an hour, he had said.

BUT she has shocking pink socks on, he had said, as though that explained absolutely everything!

That was an encounter with the police that I will never forget, and neither, possibly, will Jonathan!

BEHIND THE DOOR

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, Uncategorized5 Comments

I would like to welcome you into my world. It is a world of the most brilliant light, and deep joy. But in order to enter my world you will have to go through a door. It is a door that you may not want to go through. But it is the only door that there is, if you wish to come into my world and enjoy the light and the joy.

There is, moreover, one condition that must be fulfilled before you can enter through the door. You must cast everything off that you ever knew. Every attachment. Every desire. Every preconceived notion. You must travel light. And as you enter through the door you must open yourself and be completely committed to seeing new things – things that may be unfamiliar, and maybe even, sometimes, uncomfortable. But I can guarantee that if you are prepared to take on this undertaking, and go through that door into my world, you will be changed for ever. And you will never then be able to UNknow what you now know.

We go through many different doors in our lives. Some lead to good things, some to bad, some to a mixture of both. Sometimes we get to choose the doors we go through – sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we take a risk when we choose to go through any particular door, and once behind it, we have to do our best with whatever we find. Some doors are heavy to push on, some are easy. Some just open on their own. But whatever, it is what we do with what is behind them that matters. It can indeed be a magical mystery tour. There can be stones and rocks and hard places behind them, but there can also be the most precious gems. Gems that sparkle and glitter. Gems of the most beautiful colours, the depths of which we have never seen before.

My world is a world of wonder. A world of the most exquisite beauty. A world of singing, and music, and dancing. A world of light and life. But as you come behind the door, as you accept the invitation into my world, you will come to discover that these things are hard won. They are won at a price. But the cost makes them even more beautiful. More exquisite. Mostly, they are simple things – things that even a child could appreciate. And maybe, in order to find and appreciate them yourselves, you will have to become as little children, and open yourselves to wonder, and the simplicity that is what true life is all about.

In order for you to be able to come through the door, I am going to have to tell you my life story. Part of it may be difficult to hear. But remember – I told you there was a cost. The reward is, however, way beyond what you could ever imagine, if you will travel light, with an ever open mind. The door awaits you, inviting you to open it and go behind it. Once through the main door, you may find many more doors, and it will be your choice as to whether you go through them or not, to see what is behind them. Everything is always your choice. The invitation begins here.

WHO IS THIS?

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Who is this that chases me down the years?
Many roads I have taken only to meet Him again,
Waiting for me at the point of my deepest fears

Who is the one who the course of my life steers?
I think I am in control, but who writes it with the pen?
Who is this that chases me down the years?

What is it that this man forever towards me bears?
Is it the same for all women and all men?
He waits for me at the point of my deepest fears

On my journey, sometimes the sickening fog clears,
As I carry my sorrows, feeling hopeless, then…….
Who is this that chases me down the years?

Is that a smile that on His face He wears?
Is this where something new can now begin?
Who is this that chases me down the years?
He waits for me at the point of my deepest fears

THE EVENING CAME

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, Uncategorized7 Comments

The evening came and the sun had died
I sat by the fields and almost cried
The day had brought with it so much pain
Yet still I knew there was life to gain

Light and dark held hands inside
My heart was still, yet open wide
Something was touching the love that was lain
The evening came

Darkness could never walk by my side
While light held its hand to be my guide
Both were equal within the frame
That life defined for the blind and the lame
Now Love’s strong hand on me would remain
The evening came

IN THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING

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In the light of the morning Love grew
Where sadness once was i knew
That Something within was pushing me on
Through darkness so deep, so long
Through a life that seemed so very wrong

Just a human touch, I’d known so few
Disconnected from life and people too
But now, your touch came With a sweet Lovesong
In the light of the morning

Even the trees had a softer hue
As Love touched my heart this day anew
Now I knew that I did belong
To the human race, I walked among
Those who knew this Love so true
In the light of the morning

BIRTH OF A SCREAM

On By blindzanygirlIn Poems, Uncategorized1 Comment

One day the darkness overcame her
The earth covered her
The dampness ate into her,
Stifled, she tried to scream
But there was no breath in her body
Lifeless she lay there
This could not be it
Her soul still lived
This could not be her final breath
Slowly she began to move her fingers
Stiffened by the dank earth
They struggled to move
The resistance of the earth
Held them
She remembered she was dust
But in the dust
The Valley of dry bones
Life lived again
Her fingers curled around a tiny stone
She felt its sharp edges
And knew she was not dead
And that life could live again
And suddenly her scream was born
And in the screaming
She was brought to life again
The darkness pierced
Shattered

EVER MINE

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Sitting as the sun died and night came
I smelled and tasted the air that spoke of times past
And once again I could see,
Feel the movement of the big swing
In the night air
Reaching to the stars in the black sky
Laughing in exhilaration
As only a child can
Wondering
If I could catch a star
And hold it forever
Here, in this place where now I sat
The past lived again
And
Like then
I asked questions
“”Where is God?”
Seeing the vastness of the sky
I wondered
Was He beyond the stars?
Could I catch and hold Him too?
Could I even reach Him?
Small as I was then
I feel even smaller now
Blind, lame, sick,
And now I wonder just as then
“Can I catch and hold God?”
And even as I ask,
I feel once again a child’s wonderment
And know that the Kingdom of Heaven
Belongs to such as me,
And that it is not high up in the skies
Beyond my reach,
But indeed it is within me
Not dependent on time or space
But ever present
Ever a gift
Ever mine