A flea who got a bit drunk
Wanted to be a monk
He went to Confession
It was a long session
And onto the floor he sunk
A flea who got a bit drunk
A flea who got a bit drunk
Wanted to be a monk
He went to Confession
It was a long session
And onto the floor he sunk
In summertime the sun is high
The days are long soft as a sigh
Flowers bloom in colours bright
Our hearts are warmed at such a sight
Swallows swoop and dive and fly
With young in nests for food they cry
Soon they leave the nest and try
Their wings at flying in sun’s light
Days then grow shorter autumn’s nigh
The fields are golden earth is dry
The farmers cut the corn by night
Time for them is now so tight
The long hot days begin to die
Along the path
I stop momentarily
Wonder at life
In the trees
Birds are singing
Their winter’s song
The cold wind
Blows biting me
Birds sing on
Last night I went past the bridge where Molly jumped from. My best friend Molly that is. It is a lot of years now since she jumped. I can no longer see the bridge for I am blind but in my mind’s eye I can see the water. It is deep just there and if you jump you will surely drown. That is what Molly did. Drowned. She had tried many times before, wading into the water of the big river, but had been unsuccessful. I guess she knew that if she jumped from the bridge she would achieve her goal, to die that is. Many reasons were given for her death, but I knew her well and not one of them was right. Anyway, whatever her reasons I know how she felt. I too can see the deep water, though only in mind’s eye. But it is enough. It is enough to know that it is very deep and that if I jumped I would die. And that is what I want. To die. Many are horrified, but no one knows my life. Not fully. They know little bits. The things I tell them. But there are other bits. Bits that are unspeakable. Bits that there is no language for. People make judgements. Judgements that say I should be able to come to terms with this. Blindness that is. I invite them to come walk in my shoes. But of course they can’t. And they cannot imagine my life. For so long now I have tried to make good of blindness. To see the treasures within the darkness. And sometimes I have indeed seen them. I have made good of blindness. But I am tired. Just tired. Daily tasks have become impossible. Simple things like brushing my teeth. Dressing. Mind you, I am not just blind. There are other problems too. Like not being able to feel anything with my hands. It was the cancer that did that. Well, the cancer and the treatment to be exact. I feel around for the taps in the bathroom and I cannot find them. After having bumped into the sink that is. For the umpteenth time. I try to find my toothbrush, but knock it onto the floor. And that is just the start of things. I have a lot of pain too and damaged lungs, so that after performing even one small task in the bathroom my heart is pounding as it tries to pump oxygen into me. I am panting and trembling with the effort, and I need to lie down. I return to my bed, the pain ripping through me, and try to recover. It takes a while, but eventually my breathing evens out as my heart rate returns to something like normal. I sit up and look into the darkness. There are many hours in front of me. I go back in my memory and remember happier times. Times when I could walk. That is just what I would do now if I could. Walk. I remember times when I could see the beauty of nature. The trees in autumn. The berries on the bushes and hedges. The daffodils in springtime. The snowdrops. The birds. My dog’s face. My husband’s face. He cannot speak now. He lost his speech during the pandemic. I read and hear of people drowning their sorrows by going for a good hike or walk. I long to drown my sorrows in that way. But no, I must drown myself. Like Molly did.
The water calls me. “Deep calls to deep” it says in the Bible. The Bible that I was brought up with from the age of thirteen. I don’t think it means the deep waters of the river, but I hear them calling anyway. I guess Molly did too.
Yesterday I went to see the vicar in my home village. I do not see him often but when I do see him I am able to be myself. The last time we met, it was raining cats and dogs and the church roof was leaking big time and there was a veritable river flowing right down the church. This time there was no rain and no river, but it was freezing cold. The church may be due for closure as there are hardly any people who go any more and they have not got enough money to survive. However, whenever we are together we find a few shit piles. Yesterday was no exception though still, I did not say what I wanted to say as there were other things to say. But I do like how we can demolish a few shit piles lol. We stayed out after that, as I had made the effort to get to the car, which was painful and also dangerous to me, having to walk in the absolute dark. I thought about a lot of things and became rather distressed and upset. We had driven fourteen miles to see this vicar, which is ok but I felt so very alone because in my own town we are isolated and alone. I always hate coming home again to this terrible darkness and loneliness. With my husband having lost his speech there is no one to talk at all to. So here begins another day. The gardener is coming today though although I will not see him and he will get on and do his thing clearing up dead leaves. Perhaps he should clear me up too lol
Honeyed words are good
Until they stick in your throat
Cannot be got out
A flea who had yellow shoes
One day got the blues
He bought a red hat
But was a bit fat
And wobbled around with Suze
A flea who went to France
Wanted to learn a new dance
She wore a short skirt
And looked very pert
And ended up kissing with Lance
I am reading a book entitld Light to Dark, and it is about the runner Dave Heeley who went blind. I have just read a bit where he says that people often ask him what it is like to be blind, and they get an answer that they don’t expect. He replies to them,
“It’s bloody awful.”
He says how lonely and isolating it is. He describes how he never knows what is going on when he is with a group of people as he cannot see who is talking to who, or see hand gestures etc. He is describing exactly what I have tried to describe. He talks about the terrible frustration of it.
This hit me because I am forever berating myself for feeling those things. I too want to say it’s bloody awful. I too want to say how lonely it is. But I have attempted to not show this because I felt that people wanted me to be positive. I have said often in here that I want to write raw honesty and sometimes I do, but then I get scared and worried about having done so. I know it drives people away because they do not want to hear that. They would prfer to hear about the treasures of the darkness, which I actually do see too.
I veer between writing raw honesty and the sweeter approach. But what is sweet about going blind? I agree with Dave. It is bloody awful.
The light still exists
Even when darkness persists
It lives within us
I have written some very dark things this morning. It is, however, my truth. I woke feeling the fear very intensely. Knowing that my body is deteriorating so fast, and that life may be slipping away from me, I wanted people around me. But there are none. Even my brother stated that we were not family and that he would not be there for me at the end. We live daily with this terrible knowledge of our aloneness and it is frightening. We have struggled to rectify this situation and have reached out to others but they all have lives of their own. Busy ones. They are busy living, which is of course what we all should do. But sometimes we can do that no longer and need just a little accompaniment along the way. Not to be gloomy, but just to know there is someone there.
In a strong world
Where the fittest survive
I wonder what happened to love
The weaker members of our world
Now left alone to die
I fear for all
Losing contact dark
Surrounds me while the world dies
Fear gripping my soul
When you are a child you never imagine that you will end up in a state of absolute aloneness, left to wither and die alone without family or friends. You cannot imagine this state of disconnection from the world. Even an appeal to family members that remain bringing no response except a statement that no family exists now and that you can die alone.
I was always taught that even when all others and all else fails, God is there. We sing in one of our hymns, “when other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless O abide with me.” For myself I am not aware of this being the truth. Life feels very dark right now. Left alone, I contacted what used to be our church until we could go no more. I appealed for help because we were so alone. The priest whom I spoke to responded that they were too busy to help. I had simply requested a phone call occasionally or maybe even a visit sometimes. I used to play my flute every single Sunday to accompany the singing. We used to attend regularly. I was always willing to help and be there for other people. Now, we are alone and left to get on with it.
I am feeling very shaky and crumbly right now as my bodily pain increases and life becomes even more difficult. Life is slipping away from me.
All things pass away
I too am passing away
Like the autumn leaves
Slipping away life
That once was full of colour
Friends and family
I hope to respond to all your comments on Tuesday but it might be later in the day. I have read every single one of them and I think you very much. We have had a difficult day, with first our food delivery being without many items and we cannot get to the shops. Then the IT man who was meant to be coming to give me a lesson on my iPad camcelled and so we were totally put out. Then something else happened and so it went on. I pray that Tuesday is better. I ended up with a migraine but I did see your comments. Thankyou all for being so patient. Xx
She looked at the stars saw heaven shining
The brightest of lights in the dark night sky
Just tiny dots all twinkling and gleaming
She wondered if she could jump up that high
And catch those gems whose beauty was streaming
Down onto the earth heaven heard her sigh
With joy she danced with her young face beaming
Tears ran down her face as she started to cry
Was this for real or was she just dreaming
She grasped grandma’s hand said tell me no lie
Is God right up there where love is teeming
Is that where we go when one day we die
For her young mind this was perfect timing
She looked at the stars saw heaven shining
Here in the setting sun I found you
Under the beautiful rowan tree
How did it happen could it be true
That this was where I was meant to be
Did you wait all those years that flew
Whilst far away the wind blew free
In that cold earth the truth you knew
Under the rowan tree
You gave me to the God who grew
In me a spirit of love that we
Shared though unbeknown to few
The demons of the past we slew
My mother in God who helped me see
Under the rowan tree
Tescos have not delivered many of the items on our food order. They have not had a chilled delivery for two days. I know they have been warning us about food shortages due to delivery problems.
On the brighter side our death certificate has arrived.
We sent for my great grandmother’s death certificate as blood cancer is in our family it seems and we wanted to know what she died of. She died comparatively young but she had had thirteen children, not all of whom survived. We have yet to read it so am looking forward to that lol
I awoke from a weird and horrible dream yesterday. I can usually interpret my dreams but this one escapes me.
I wonder if anyone can suggest anything.
I dreamt that I was going up the path to the little church where I used to love to go just to sit and meditate, in my wheelchair. In front of me I saw three figures going in through the door. Usually it is absolutely empty. I decided to go in anyway. I found myself sitting facing these three people who were sitiing on a pew facing me. I was my usual friendly self and said Hi to them. But they had kind of plastic faces and they all turned their faces to the left of them so that they were not looking at me or acknowledging me. They were all three dressed in black trousers and white shirts all identical in style.
I was phased out. They then left and could be seen walking away with the tall man in the middle holding onto what looked like older teenaged boys at each side of him, holding their hands. They sort of glided along.
There seems to be another problem occurring between Voice Over and WordPress. Voice Over is essential to the blind poster. Without it we could not manage at all. Voice Over is a thing that iPads have and they are said ti be the best thing for blind people. It speaks as you move your finger over the screen and tells you what is there, speaking it out to you. Finding where on the screen you are, though, can still be difficult. I always look under the bell in the top right hand corner for comments from others and likes. It used to read them out to me, but it has started reading only the top three or four and then refuses to go any further. This makes knowing about comments impossible and of course I cannot respond to them either. This therefore makes me even more dependent upon my poor overworked husband to do this. I have no idea what has happened. It is so soul destroying. These glitches just keep on and on happening. When WP alters the layout of things too, it completely throws the blind poster and the stats page has changed so much that I can no longer work out my stats. There is just so much there and to work it all out is impossible. The whole idea for a blind person is to become independent of others but so often there are things put in the way of that. I will now have to wait and wait for my husband to help me again. We will contact the Hapiness Engineers to see what has happened but in the past they have been of little help. Sad.
Casting pearls before
A world of darkness and gloom
Made out of true grit
Not far from where I live there is a sit of special scientific interest or better known as Messingham Pits. There are three lakes there and it is a very beautiful place. I had never been there before, but read that some ospreys had been seen there on their way back to warmer climes for the winter. Ospreys are quite rare in our coutry and had almost died out and they attempted to save them and did manage to do this up in Scotland. I had dreamed of seeing an osprey and so I hared it to Messingham Sand Pits in my car one morning. I had no idea what to expect or indeed what absolute magical beauty I would encounter that day.
At first it seemed nothing. Just lots of grass and I made my way to where one of the big lakes was. Suddenly I found myself in what looked like a fairy glade. There was a beautiful soft grassy area surrounded by trees such that it was quite enclosed. The sunlight was playing on the grass and in the trees. On the ground were red and white fungi, and little raabits playing in this beautiful glade. I thought I had found heaven. I half expected a fairy to appear. I was enchanted.
After a while of just watching the rabbits I began walking again, and was just walking along a narrow sandy path between the trees, and came upon a man with a camera on a tripod. I made him jump as I said “hi.” Then suddenly there was a huge bird just above us flying low. It was the osprey. I did not see it properly for it was gone in a trice. I started talking to the man. He was very friendly and he told me that two ospreys had been there for a week. He told me where the bird hide was at the side of the big lake and told me that I might see kingfishers there. I thanked him and continued on my way.
Upon finding the bird hide I entered, and there was no one in it, but what a sight greeted my eyes. There were four huge birds all sitting on a log at the edge of the lake very close to the bird hide. They were facing me and they all had their wings spread out, looking like huge arms welcoming me. I had no idea what these amazing and wonderful birds were as I was new to bird watching. I just knew that I felt as if they were welcoming me. I discovered in time that they were cormorants and I have loved cormorants ever since. I think that they are wonderful and amazing birds.
I did not see any kingfishers and the ospreys did not appear. I remained in the bird hide for a long time, quite sure that I had died and gone to heaven.
Those are the sorts of things that I miss so sorely since I went blind, but it is a beautiful memory.
The bridge where she leapt
Came into my view last night
And deep called to deep
At twilight the dark
Overwhelmed me once again
A man once asked his students how they would know that the night was over and dawn had come. What signs would there be. All sorts of answers were given, and no one said what he wanted to hear.
The man said to the students,
“You will know that the dawn has come when you can look at every human being and say ‘this is my brother’ or ‘this is my sister.’”
I used to be OK with going blind
Was that real?
Or was it because of the pressure
To see things as others wanted me to?
Or was it maybe that I had no choice?
Only the choice to be OK with it
Or to let the pain overtake me
What was the reality?
Was it a game?
How can you make a game of going blind?
Even as a child I learned
To show no emotion
To bear the utmost pain
Without a murmur
It became a habit
A habit I could not break
Crying was not allowed
Violence was normalised
And so, the violence of blindness
Could not be allowed to find acknowledgement
It was OK to go blind
But now I am lost
I was good at seeing with the eyes of the heart
I was good at making the best of it
I was good at smiling when all was not well
I was a good girl
I gave people what they wanted
While inside my heart was breaking
And fear ran riot
Confusion filled my soul
I wanted to do it well you know
To succeed at being blind
Failure was not even on the menu
I could not be seen to stumble
This taut ball of humanity
I am not brave
This taut ball of humanity
Wants to scream and scream
And cry out
And I know
That even as I scream and cry
The very stones will cry out with me
For all the Universe is groaning
As if in the pangs of childbirth
But oh, what a birthing this is
If indeed it is a birth
And not a death
And as I give birth
To this thing called blindness
That has lain fallow for so long
Will it kill me?
Is it too big for me?
You wave at me and smile
As you watch this birthing
And call me proud
As I do not wave back
And I know that in your eyes
I must go to Confession
For failing to deliver
Because I was too busy
And so you beat me with the stick of blame
As the baby was being born
I had held it within me for so long
But now, it is here,
Born upon this earth,
And I cry
“Lord, I am blind.”
The land that I live in
I look for a map but in vain
I search for signs but can find none
Alone I tread this path
The end unknown
Speaks inside me
Almost too quiet heard
Only in the silence of night
In the darkness unmapped unknown
I know of your darkness
The light will come
Cannot be quenched
You will walk in the light
That only your hearts eyes can see
When earth’s sorrows have passed away
Walk in the dark my child
You will not fall
Manchester is an absolutely wonderful place, though I did not always used to think so. When my husband and I were going out together, he had to do a six month stint in industry there as part of his university course. We hated being separated, and I would visit him in his lodgings. I was still in Bradford, where I was teaching. I have never been in a colder place than his lodgings and the lady whose house it was was a strict Catholic of the very traditional kind. It was a very strict kind too. She watched our every move, and I was not even allowed to sit next to my now husband. I hated it there but I wanted to see him. Manchester seemed a horrible place to me then, but it was where my husband bought my wedding ring. We saw it in a jewellers ther and I loved it. I still have that wedding ring but I am unable to wear it now.
Since those days I have come to love Manchester for other reasons and I will write more about that soon.
There are two hills where I go and sit. One is in my home village and I go there to remember and connect with my grandmother and my grandparents’ farm, and the beautiful rowan tree in the churchyard, and the other is the hill above the river. The river is the Trent and where we sit the river widens and it is very near to where it goes out into the sea. At the bottom of the hill is a place called Alkborough Flats, it is the flat land beside the river. Here there are lakes where the water birds gather, and also all kinds of other birds in the hedges there. There are marsh harriers, which are rare birds in out country. Often other rare water birds can be seen on the lakes. There are the grebes and the odd merganser. Often also, sometimes, buzzards are to be seen. Last night we went to sit on that hill and I was recalling all the birds that I have seen there. I remembered sitting by one of the lakes at twilight. It was mystical. As we were leaving my husband saw a tawny owl dropping out of a tree and beginning to fly away.
These are the memories that I live on and they are tinged with a great sadness for birds were my life, as was all of nature. I felt close to heaven in nature and to lose the ability to see it is the greatest loss ever. I know that there are other ways of connecting with nature, but seeing it, for me, was important. I am touched with a great grief which I try to keep hidden. If I allowed it to come to me too much I would be totally consumed by it.
Last night, however, I was sitting on my bed in terrible physical pain, as I had been all day, and in the total darkness, trying to while away the long long hours and becoming more and more depressed. I tried to do my blog, but realised that this is not so possible any more as I cannot interact with people like I used to, and people are leaving. I wondered if it was because I was writing too much about my blindndess or about sorrow, but that is why I try to include humour too. But I know that things are not as they used to be. In case it is because I write a lot about my blindness, I have someone creating another blog for me specifically for that purpose. That will stop me flooding this one with stuff about my blindness. But then what am I left with? I do not engage in a normal life, so what can I write about? I sometimes go back into my memories and have to draw upon those. If I do go out, I see nothing, and so do not get inspired. I can only write about the darkness, which I have done a lot. Maybe that drove people away.
Last night we passed Keadby Bridge, a bridge which has horrible associations. My best friend threw herself off this bridge into the River Trent and drowned. Often when we pass that bridge I think of Molly but last night life felt so painful and hopeless and all that I face is terrible physical pain and hours and hours of darkness, and I wanted to follow Molly.
I have no intentions of leaving this blog. I don’t think the fleas would like it. This will always be my main blog. I know that maybe I need to change it a bit if I can but I don’t know how. I feel so happy however, that so many of you have stayed with me, and I know that I have some wonderful friends in here. You have all kept me going. I had a bad day yesterday. Maybe there will be a better day today.
Songs of the darkness sing to me
Strange songs in a strange land
I hear the wind in the trees
And wonder what you would sing to me
Below the river flows
And in the lake the birds are resting
I hear again in my mind the song of the birds
In the morning they will sing again
But even they do not sing in the darkness
I listen more
The silence envelops me
I become one with the silence
And it becomes its own song
Scarred this day by wounds that bleed
Speech becomes paralysis
No one can tell such agonies
Platitudes do not even act as plasters
No bandage can stem the blood flow
Pillows soaked with the unredeemed
Becoming redeemed by suffering
And the bearing thereof
Alone such bearers dwell in darkness
Wondering when it will all end
Crying out to the God of Job
And Jesus too
“Where is my Father?”
In pure abandonment
The stakes are high
But who cares about stakes
When flesh falls from bones
And sinews ache
And bodies stiffen unto death?
In pure abandonment
The cry rises to Heaven
The answer is Silence
This evening, after becoming overwhelmed by the continual blackness that I see in front of my eyes, I went to sit on a hill in a very isolated place where all that we could hear was the wind in thee trees. It was completely dark, not that that was any different for me. But I felt the need to sit in this dark, lonely place and try to find some peace.
As I sat there, I thought very deeply, and I thought of how the songs that would be created in the absolute darkness would be so different to those created in the light. The darkness has songs of its own. I wanted to hear those songs.
I feel very left behind, as I can do nothing of the things that I used to do, and that includes writing poetry. The forms of poetry that I used to write are no longer possible for me to write as a newly blind person. I feel this loss very deeply, just as I feel all my losses very deeply. I almost feel a non person now. Just a shell.
I want and need to write much more about my blindness, but do not want to flood this blog with it, so I will tell you more about that soon. I feel as if am living in a different country right now and am a foreigner here. A freak almost. I still attempt to write poetry, but it is not happening like it used to do.
I got left behind
While I tried how to figure out
Just how to be blind
The eternal dark
Is now my permanent home
There is no way out
A little while ago, however much I felt happy about some things, suddenly everything overcame me and this terrible eternal darkness consumed me. I try to ignore it and just live, but then this happened. Sometimes you can’t control your true inner feelings and hide them even from yourself. Sometimes I feel I can live with this and all the other added things no longer. It is a living nightmare
I am so happy. We have got a new personal assistant who will come for three hours a week on a Friday afternoon. This is the first time we have had help since the pandemic began. She is called Nicky and she came yesterday and cleaned right through the house for us and she was lovely. She is going to make us a few nice things to eat with Christmas dinner and she offered that herself. Gradually she is going to get the house ship shape. There is a lot of clutter to get rid of and she will do that too. She is going to go through my clothes with me and describe them all and get rid of what is not needed or wanted. There might be room for us in the house then lol. I am so glad we got her.
Of love within
Guides me on my journey
Soon I will kiss the moon and stars
Eyes that bade me come now to you
Here I found my heaven
I rest awhile
Soon year’s end will come
But what is a year to Love
Time does not exist
The summer is gone
The winter’s chill assails us
But love still remains
Though leaves are dying
The sky still contains brightness
The clouds will not last
Lengthening nights sleep
Evades me nightmares
Give me some sweet dreams
I know that earlier in the year, some people suggested that I should publish a book of my poetry. In fact one person offered to do it for me if I let them have the manuscript. That was a very kind offer. I attempted to get my best poems together into a manuscript but because of being blind I could not do it.
Then, feeling really awful at what I have lost through my blindness, I remembered the book that we produced ourselves that did really well locally. Then I thought to myself ‘Why don’t I publish that properly as it is already in manuscript form.’ So I have decided to do that.
I am passionate about that rowan tree, and feel there will be more to write about it in the future and now I have found a way of writing in the car in the absence of being able to write properly with a pen and paper. I have a bluetooth keyboard andt links with my mobile phone and I can now write in the car that way, and of course by the wondeerful rowan tree.
I am constantly trying to find new ways to do things for I do not want to lose my writing just through this wretched blindness. So after Christmas it will definitely be done. We have the cover and everything done. So no real work to do on it.
I am still very drawn to my rowan tree and can still see it in my mind’s eye. I am publishing my poetry book entitled ‘Under the Rowan Tree’ in the New Year. I shall make an announcement when this happens.
Rowan you have my heart
Though I can see you no more
We are united
Lol they have videoed our bin collection this morning.
We are on assisted collection because we are unable in our wheelchairs to put the bins out onto the pavement ready for collection. We place them in an easily accessed position on our drive in order for the bin men to collect and empty them. They are supposed to put them back in exactly the right place, with me being blind. It is not difficult. There are three bins and they are in their own places. They are all together and hubby can then put rubbish in them easily from his wheelchair.
Well, for two years now we have had nothing but trouble and problems with the bin men failing to put them back into the right place and often they place a bin right in front of the bonnet of our car. This means that I, as a blind person cannot get to our car to go out in it. The council is well aware of my blindness and our circumstances, which is why we were granted assisted collections. Some days, they have blocked me into the house and my husband has had to ring the council and play heck up to get them to come and remove the bin blocking my way through. So much has gone on with them and in the end we have had to threaten them with legal action as they just would not do what was necessary. At the beginning of this year, a great big hoo ha was caused by my husband and the manager came for three weeks and watched the bin men do their thing. They had been instructed exactly how to do it. Not rockedt science. Just put the damn thing back where you got it from.
Things went right for a while. But then problems then occurred again and I was blocked into the house. More complaints were made. They put matters right yet again. Each time, things were not done easily and my husband could only get them to act properly by threatening legal action. They were a bunch of nincompoops.
Well, we became famout lol. Then last week, they blocked me in good and proper. An angry phone call was made by my husband who was by now absolutely sick of it. He really really threatened them this time, and he was not satisfied with just going to the manager. He went to the Director. A huge fuss was made and my hubby told them that he would get the police and do them for false imprisonment.
There was such a hoo ha within the council this time and they were scared. We then received a visit from a fuming manager who was furious not with us, but with the other members of the council, and with our bin men. He apologised and then promised that this morning he would personally come and witness the bin men and mmake sure that they did it properly. He said that he was getting his ass kicked all over by his higher ups.
Well, this morning, no manager arrived, but the driver of the lorry videoed the bin man collecting and emptying our bin, then putting it back again in its spot. Lol. Our bin collection is now on camera. Ha ha. I wonder what will happen next.
My hubby was on the verge of doing them for false imprisonment and he had told them so. To be continued lol
Stars of the night
Weave your magic in me
Turning my darkness into light
Miracles happen in the night
Holy the night
This is an older poem reposted
Dizzy, I stand at the gate of time,
Knowing not where it all will end,
Is it a circle or is it a line?
Is it an enemy or a friend?
I push, the gate opens a little way,
Stretching into the distance a path,
I hesitate now, will I go or stay?
If I go through the gate will I cry or laugh?
I do not know where the path will go,
But it seems to me I cannot stand still,
Standing there, I hear the cock crow,
Have I been betrayed by time’s iron will?
Time sucks me into its fickle arms,
Something veils my sight, but there must be more,
Am I deceived by its fatal charms?
Can I ever reach eternity’s shore?
I walk through the gate, see a golden haze,
It draws me on, I cannot now stall,
There’s no more time left to stand and gaze,
In the silence I hear eternity call.
Sand tickles my toes
Think summer in the winter
Light your living flame
A very Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends. I hope you all have a lovely day.
Invades my dreams
I wake up with a start
Disorientated I rub
Thinking that I might see again
I peer into the darkness sigh
Another day is here
Will I get through
The incense of love
Rises into the heavens
I smell its perfume
In the golden morn
I will rise on angel’s wings
Carried to my home
My old world
I live in a new place
It is a world that no one knows
I follow a new path feeling my way
The sun died
Leaving blood red
In the blackened night
Innocence was destroyed
Followed by a growing up
A knowledge far too deep for words
A wisdom that only pain can give
I value the treasures of suffering
In strange places
Hidden away unseen
Blinded eyes will never see them
With a knowledge all of its own
Feel with the heart and see
Mind like a robot
Why does she carry on
Sometimes she wonders herself
Is it the end of the road now
Is this the one eternal darkness
She finds a gate and pushes it open
If you find it could you please let me have it back
Well actually it was somewhere near Scarborough, a seaside town. I do not remember exactly where. I was a teenager and we had gone as a family for a day out. We were on the top of a hight cliff overlooking the sea. There were no notices telling people not to go near the edge, and I had no idea what could happen. I had lagged behind my family a bit, and I walked to the edge of the cliff to peer over to the sea below. Oh my. I almost fell off the cliff. I ran back onto the grass so quickly feeling so shaken. I can remember the feeling of vertigo to this day. My parents never knew it had happened.
It is Sadje’s birthday today. A very very happy birthday to you Sadje.
I read your post Sadje but WordPress or something has stoppe me responding on some blogs. I so much wanted to respond to you so am doing it this way.
I hope you have a lovely day Sadje. You deserve it. Xx
WordPress has been at it again. They have obviously been making changes and it has made some things impossible for me. I don’t know what they have been playing at lately but nothing was broke so they should not have fixed it. I dread to think what they will do next. What they have done has stopped voice over working in some parts of my blog and as I relied on that some things are now impossible without another person there to read things to me. I feel like giving up.
Birds call in trees
I once could see, water
Running beside me, maybe soon
The lark rises into the sky
Her breast to the sun, sings
Her sweet song, hope
One day I too
Will rise, face the sun, sing
A song of triumph, sorrow gone,
The sun calls me like the birds, shines
In my heart, warming me,
Do you see it?
Held in the thorn
Of the rose that smells sweet
Blood of the innocent flowing
One day the truth will come to light
In all its jaggedness
Across the water
Bells are tolling death has come
Heeding not the time
Spirit wind whispers
Calls me to my destiny
In a far off place
Slivers of moonlight
Break up the darkness of night
Giving hope again
Daisy chains childhood
Days of holy innocence
Sacred morning mists
Covering holy mountains
Feet dare not tread there
Heels clicking busy
Shoppers rushing round
The reindeer is back
Following what happened with the proposed operation in 2016 I grieved a lot. I had imagined getting my sight back, and was in a total quandary about whether to go through with it or not. Was I prepared to risk my life in order to get my sight back? I wanted so very badly to see again. However, I settled down to attempt to accept my blindness. This was not so difficult at first. However there came a time when I thought that there might be another ophthalmologist somewhere who might be able to help. We contacted someone in a city not too far away, but was told that if one anesthetist had decided that it was too risky to give me an anaesthetic, then all of them would. It was not possible to have the operation done under a local anaesthetic. I have veered between trying to accept it and trying to do something about it all these years. However, I know the truth, and do not have any plans to chase operations again. My emotions have been all over the place in the past and it does no good to set everything off again. I long to have my sight back and dream of it, but it is not to be.
I have just had a visit from a man who knows a lot about technology and iPads. I was put in touch with him by the Royal National Institute for the Blind. He already told me such a lot that was helpful but he is going to come once a week for a few weeks to help me more. Of course it costs a lot, as everything does, but it will be well worth it.
This has all reminded me of what happened way back in 2016. This was when I was told that I would go blind. It was not known how long that would take, but it was coming. Already by that time, I did not have much useful sight. I want to write about a very emotional time that happened just about this time of year, not long before Christmas.
The opthalmologist wanted to attempt to operate on my eyes to try and give me my sight back. He did not know if he could do it or not as he could not see the back of my eyes and he did not know if the optic nerve had been affected by the neuropathy. It was an operation that was not approved of by his professional Body. But he was determined to do it anyway. He also wanted to operate on two eyes in the same operation, which is certainly not approved of. I was not really happy about this, but I did want my eyesight back. I was in tatters about all of this.
He proceeded to send me to a cardiologist to see if my heart could stand the anaesthetic as the chemo had affected me heart. He also had breathing tests done on me.
I was given various tests by the cardiologist, and it was pronounced that my heart was in trouble and an operation under anaesthetic was not approved. I was sent by the ophthalmologist to see the anaesthetist anyway to see if he would still give me an anaesthetic and he did his own breathing tests and said that compared with the ones the ophalmologist had done, a huge deterioration in my lungs had ocurred. He did not want to give me the anaesthetic and then when he looked at the heart results he said he definitely would not approve an anaesthetic.
I was also told, frighteningly, that I could never be given an anaesthetic again unless I was going to die and an operation would or could save my life. This was terrifying news. He said that under an anaesthetic my lungs most likely would not re inflate ok.
I went home shaken. However, the ophthalmologist was so determined and he told me that he would do the operation anyway and that he would get me an anaesthetist. He booked me two operating theatres, and he said he would do one eye in one theatre and the other eye in the other. They would all change their gowns etc om order to eliminate the possibility of carrying germs from one eye to the other. A date therefore was in place just before Christmas for the operation.
In the days leading up to it, I did not know what to do. I knew that I had a great chance of dying under the anaesthetic, and also that there was only a slim chance of him being able to do something. I had to consider whether I could spend the rest of my life blind or not. Whould I take the chance, knowing that I may die.
This was an horrendous time for me. So much was held in the balance.
In the event I contracted a bad stomach bug just before the operation and I could not have it anyway. The ophthalmologist was emigrating to New Zealand immediately and that was that. No one else would have done that operation anyway. They still would not.
So that was what happened at this time of year in that year. I always remember it.
We lived in a place called Grimsby for a while once. It is a fishing port and you can go to the docks and get fish straight from the boats that have been fishing in the North Sea. It was the best fish I ever tasted.
However, we actually lived almost in Cleethorpes, which is a seaside resort. It was very different then to what it is now, and I loved to go walking on the beach especially in winter when it was not crowded. We had a little Jack Russell dog then called Sparky. He was white and tan in colour. One time he jumped off the settee and broke his leg. He was in plaster for a while, and he could run faster with three legs than he could with four. The sea used to go right out there, and Sparky would run and run until her got to the sea, miles away from us. We could never catch him and we had to call and call him to get him to come back. He was a lovely little dog though.
I loved living ther by the sea. We were only there for six months though as my husband was only contracted to work there for six months. I did not want to leave there. At that time there was a great shopping centre in Grimsby but it has gone to the dogs now. Like many town centres. I worked in a bakery shop for a while and also at a supermarket picking up the trolleys left outside by customers and putting them back inside the store. It was mind numbing work. As I knew we were only there for six months, it was not worth getting a proper full time job. It was a very friendly place. As I say it was another of my happy places.
Graceful white beauties
Slide slowly along river
A sight bringing joy
Screeching seagulls swoop
Cacophony piercing air
Sea roaring below
Buxton in Derbyshire was a wonderful place. At least it was to me. Not everybody felt the same way. The one thing about Buxton was that in winter it was COLD. We were told over and over again,
“It’s a two overcoat place.”
We were constantly exhorted to put two overcoats on in winter. It was true, only I felt as if I needed four overcoats.
It was the Opera House that drew me. All kinds of groups and show business people came to perform there. I loved going to see groups from the sixties, though they were by then very old. I saw Ken Dodd . We thought we would never get home when seeing him. He didn’t finish until two o’ clock in the morning, something for which he was famous. I also saw Freddie Starr, whose rendition of Rindercilla had me under the seat with laughin. I was holding my stomach and had tears rolling down my face. I have never seen anything so funny in my life.
Of course there was ballet also. I saw Swan Lake, performed by a Russian Company. There were choirs, plays and Irish Dance. All of it I adored and I would often take myself off in an evening to the Opera House.
I went to Writing Groups in Buxton, and met some amazing people. I would love to live near Buxton again. It was one of my happy places.
A flea who went to Confession
Never did learn his lesson
He went back again
And again and again
Followed by a long flea procession
Anthony advised her to forget what had happened and warned her to not say anything to anyone. Sophia was not so sure about it. They HAD heard a very strange cry from across the valley and it echoed around the granite rocks in an eerie manner. It sounded like someone in trouble, but they could not be sure. They had got used to seeing and hearing strange things in this place. It almost seemed quite fitting that a sound like this should be heard.
“But we should tell somebody,” Sophia said. “It could be someone being raped, or even murdered.”
Anthony shifted from foot to foot looking uncomfortable.
“It’s never good to get involved,” he said.
Sophia could not understand Anthony at all. He was acting totally out of character.
Sophia was not going to let Anthony influence her. She got her mobile phone out of her bag, and dialled the number of the police. After answering their questions and giving them exact details of where they were, she exhorted Anthony just to wait. She wanted to find out if the sound came again. Yes, there it was again. Well, whoever it was, they were not dead yet. She hoped the police would get there quickly. Anthony continued to look uncomfortable.
Sophia’s mobile eventually rang.
“Thankyou Ma’am. We have investigated and it turned out to be a load of kids shouting to listen to the echo. Nothing sinister.”
Sophia heaved a sigh of relief.
“But what’s up with you?” She asked Anthony.
“Well I remember the time you got involved once before, and ended spending a night in the cells.”
“Yes, and I sang all night long in different languages,” she said.”they were pleased to get rid of me in the morning.”
Anthony pulled roughly at her coat sleeve.
“Come on. We’re going home before you get into any more trouble.”
She breathed in Life
After the dark deluge
Life danced within her once again
Now black death could take her no more
And sorrow’s head was crushed
She prayed that Life
I dream of beaches
Where the sea kisses the shore
And joy lasts for ever
Closer to me breath
Caressing my tear stained face
Oh Love that holds me
You wipe tears away
Take away sorrow and pain
Oh Love of my life
I feel your nearness
I rest in your gentle arms
Find therein my peace
Love is eternal
Bringing light in the darkness
Love lasts for ever
I referred earlier in another post to the depression that can assail you when you go blind. I also said that I believe in trying to overcome rather than taking pills. I should also say that I do know that for some people, pills for depression are life savers. I do know that for some it is absolutely necessary. I was only talking about myeself. Some things though, cannot be overcome without the help of drugs.
Many years ago, I did take pills for depression, prescribed by my doctor. There were some horrible things going on in my life, and so I was given them. At the time, I was glad, as I thought they would relieve my suffering. But they didn’t, what they did do was make me feel spaced out, and as if I was not in my own body. One day, I was walking around in the town, and felt so weird and spaced out and told the doctor and she told me to stop taking them.
I struggle with a horror of drugs, and this made my having to have chemo all the worse. It took me a lot to overcome that and accept the chemo, but I had to. I do not know if there are others like me. I just hate taking drugs.
I am finally managing to get to few blogs and make some comments. I am dead chuffed lol. I can’t find out how to put in the emoticons though and so sometimes use a word instead and sometimes can’t think of the right one. Sometimes I am shown where the emoticons are but then I can’t remember where to find them again. Duh i will master it in the end though. I am determined to.
I am reading a book at the moment written by a woman who went blind, who was a Booker Prize Judge, and author herself. It has impacted me very greatly. She makes the absolute statement that she does not want to write in a way that promotes or states the idea that good can come out of suffering or pain or misfortune. In place she uses the “f” word to describe her blindness. She describes her feelings and what happened to her, and she is forthright about her reactions and emotions. It is a refreshing read. This is not a book about making blindness good. It is raw and honest. In a way, it has encouraged me to do exactly that myself. As I write my own story I do not want to pink cushion anything. Going blind is shit, and there is no getting away from that.
Often, I have attempted to hide my real feelings about going blind, in response to how other people want me to be. It has caused great tension within me. As I have often said in here, though, my desire has always to be raw in my wiriting. In the end, there has to be some kind of acceptance of the situation so that you and blindness can live together, and yes, there has to be some positivity, but a process has to be gone through, and that can take years. Some people never get over it and some commit suicide. It was good to read such an honest book. The woman, for a time, withdraws into her blindness, and will not go out of her house. She is given pills for depression, even though she says is not depressed. But the pills do help her to sleep.
There is just so much in this book to which I can relate and that validates my own feelings, which I do not speak about. Her experiences are very much my own, though I have never withdrawn into it or stayed in my house. I do admit to having experienced a deep, dark depression though, but I would never take drugs for it, as I believe very much in overcoming things for yourself. I believe in attempting to find ways through, even though it might be with many tears etc.
I feel much better for reading this book, though I have not finished it yet, because it does not demand anything of me. I can be as I am and not feel guilty. I do not have to be any particular way that others might want me to be.
I feel liberated by this book.
I cannot give you the title of it because I cannot remember book titles unless I can see them written down. I am no good at just hearing things. But when I can remember it I will say what the title is. I know it is something to do with winter. Just another example of the effect of blidness upon you.
In village home the birds still sing
For they all know that it is Spring
Beside the beauteous rowan tree
Where once I sat within its lea
I wish I too could take to wing
Oh to escape this deadly thing
Fly in the sky pure joy to bring
Hear once again the church bells ring
In village home
I ride again on the big swing
In fairground bright such fun within
Bright stars that twinkle in night sky
While the big swing takes me up so high
Those days were good I had my fling
In village home
Floods in roads
Washing the car
People getting splashed
Some places impassable
Everything is chaos
How to navigate?
Finally we get home
Hot dinner waiting
Thankyou automatic oven
Oh how thou dost weep
Now that thou art stripped and bare
Into your heart
Find there sorrows and joys
Treasures that life has given you
Can glitter with the purest love
Like a pearl formed by grit
Thing of beauty
When I was sixteen years old and still at school, I went to work, during the summer holidays, in the offices at the steelworks. I was so proud to have got this job. I felt really grown up now. One day I was asked to take a huge pile of papers from one office to another, but to alter the pile so that the sheet of paper on the bottom was on the top, and so on. I do not know why, but this task freaked me out and I just could not figure out how to do it. My brain simply froze. I think I was in awe of the place as the steelworks in our town is massive. There were at that time lots of offices. I had to walk down the road in the steelworks a little way to deliver these papers and I began to walk, wondering what to do about these papers. In the end I returned to the original office to try and sort the papers out, and I put the whole sheaf of papers on the top of a tall filing cabinet. Suddenly the whole sheaf slid off the cabinet to reside on the floor behind it. Panic stations. There was little space between the cabinet and the wall and there were things right against the cabinet at either side of it. There was no way that I could reach over the top of the cabinet and get my hand to where the papers were to retrieve them. I had no idea what to do at all and it was now home time.
That evening I told a man who went to my church and who was also a neighbour about this and he was a bit of a joker. He made me a long instrument by fixing some things together and gave it to me. He told me to put it behind the cabinet to try and push the papers out. I was horrified, wondering how I was going to do that. How would I get to be alone in the office. I said this to the man and he said,
“Tell them it’s a snobtrundler, specially designed to retrieve fallen papers.” I told him he was mad.
I do not know what happened because the next day I was moved and could do nothing about it. I expect the papers are still there.
I well remember the night that I first suspected that something serious was wrong with my eyes. It happened when I was about halfway through chemo. I woke up to go to the bathroom in the night, and my eyelids were stuck down. I just could not open them. Not only that, but there was extreme pain in my eyes. It was almost unbearable. I stumbled on the landing because with my eyelids closed I could not see. I felt confused, bewildered, and scared. We got the doctor the next day, and by this time my eyelids had opened again. She gave me antibiotic drops for my eyes, saying it was an infection. It seemed that it would clear up but then come straight back. Always, when I woke up in a morning, my eyelids were stuck closed as there was so much matter from my eyes. This is still true today. I wake with matter in my eyes and often my eyelids are stuck like glue.
I could never understand why the antibiotics did not clear up the infection. Different ones were tried but still the provlem persisted. Nobody ever suggested that something serious might be wrong but I began seeing double. It was really scary. The haematologist who was treating me for the cancer just said that when the chemo was over I would need stronger glasses. In fact, one of the drugs that I was being given was known to cause eye problems and the haematologist was meant to send me to have my eyes checked by an opthalmologist at regular intervals during chemo. He did not do that and I did not know that until afterwards. It was the same with my heart. One of the drugs can cause heart problems and I was meant to be seen by a heart specialist regularly but that never happened either. I just wonder how much what happened to me could have been avoided had those things been done. It is too late now, but I do sometimes wonder.
Of darkest paths
In forest of nightmares
Where each creak is a huge monster
Where very souls are aswallowed up
Lonely are the souls who
Enter that place
I touch my new world
I am a foreigner now
Lost in a dark maze
My world is a room
In which there is only dark
I hear sounds outside
Jewels of the night
Shine in the hidden places
Know them with your heart
The world in my head
Full of colour and movement
Black outside my head
I am still no good at some things in WordPress and I do apologise because my husband is still having to respond to many of your comments, which I really want to do. Sadly though, sometimes it emds up that he gets the reply to one person in another person’s box. It has happened very recently. Fortunately it was ok and got sorted out.
The reason that I want to respond to your comments is not just politeness, but also because I really DO want to. I like the interaction with people and also so often your comments are so lovely. They always lift me.
Being stuck in bed a lot of the time, with little to no contact with people, these things are precious to me. And also I have a deep longing to be able to go to the blogs of others as I genuinely want to read there and also join in. This is not happening very much as I can never find my way to them and sometimes finding my way around a blog is too difficult for me. It is so frustrating. I am not wanting to do this to keep people following and reading me, but because I want to do these things. People will choose to read me or not and it is nice when they do, but I would still want to read others irrespective of whether they read me or not.
I do feel that so much has been taken away from me by this wretched blindness. I am still trying to learn how to do things. One day I will manage to do everything that I used to do. Hopefully.
Since I have been incapacitated and stuck in bed a lot of the time, I have wanted to read books. Often reading provides a wonderful escape from the problems and sadnesses of life. Just to rest back and ignore everything and be taken to a different place is wonderful. So I have been seeking books that I can read. Being blind presents me with rather a problem. There are audible books, which are very good, although some of the voices that the books are read in cam be very annoying and detract from the book. I can read a book if it is done in Kindle as Voice Over on my iPad will read it for me. Many books are now done in Kindle as well as paperback, but often I want to read a book that is not in audible or Kindle. I tend to like specialised books and they are not the norm.
I feel very frustrated at times, simply because my ability to choose books and read them is curtailed. I ended up, in frustration, listening on audible to murder mysteries, and those ten to be done in a series of books. I have found the they are formulaic. The way in which they are written is always the same. It seems that food and drink form a large part of the books. Also there always has to be a different and memorable detective and it gets very predictable. There can be some rather gruesome scenes described and the sleiths always end up almost dead themselves and in some very scary situations but they are always suddenly rescued.
To be honest I read so many of these books out of boredon, but can no longer stomach them. They get on my nerves.
I am still looking for good books and a bit of escapism. I do like true stories too, though. I have read many memoirs of people who have gone blind, like me, and I have discovered that each one is very different. It has led me to want to write my own experience, but I never get on with it. Maybe I should.
If anyone knows of any good books please let me know. I am all ears.
Forsooth I kneel before you and confess
That whilst you languished here upon your couch
I spent a night of lust with your friend Bess
I felt upon my cheek her gentle touch
But now I pray that you wilt me forgive
Tis you I really want and wilt not stray
As long as you and I together live
I promise I will never go away
Oh take me in your arms and kiss my lips
And taste my sweetest love this very night
I do not care about your ample hips
Oh kiss me all night long till it is light
I’ll give you all the loving you desire
Oh come on Baby let me light your fire
You walked beside me
Over mountains hills and dales
Then you disappeared
The going was tough
You weakened in the dark night
Your heart stopped beating
Your living flame died
And then you had no more light
The darkness took you
Your last goodbye clanged
In the depths of the darkness
I hear you no more
See you in heaven
Your words die away lifeless
There is no heaven
By the riverside
I saw you chasing rainbows
And jumping for joy
The earth was full of teeming,
Grey granite rock,
In lush fields of velvet.
Yellow heads danced
White poppies, paper thin,
In summer’s breeze.
Never had life seemed so full,
The barren past vanished.
Through moistened eyes I gazed,