Tag Archives: loss

To Those Who have Lost a Loved One

Miranda John William Waterhouse, 1916

Miranda
John William Waterhouse, 1916

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The World Interpreted through Alice in Wonderland

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Consulting the Oracle

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First Meeting

Many Don’t Arrive

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A Meeting is Held

Alice is voted unanimously as Ambassador

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Waiting to meet the Red Queen

(With trepidation )

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A productive discussion did not seem in the cards

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And, in fact, became quite hostile.

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Things on the home front were not much better.

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With a heavy heart, Alice helped prepare her friends for battle with what little she could find.

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Alice listened to the Mock Turtle’s prophecies of the outcome of the war.

    4E9FC6FE-AC4F-4C99-AF28-2985270D3379.png Is the Mock Turtle going to be right?

Mr. Putin, speaker with two faces?

Mr. Netenyahu, regretful of civilian deaths?

 

Who will take responsibility for their actions?

Who will pretend to paint the roses red with the blood of the fallen?

 

Quelquefois (Armadillo)

Sometimes just sounds better that way, when the usual word is worn out.

I write terrible poetry. Be forewarned

That while the world is in a semi-fixed state I am not.

Not predictable like the tides; there are no little flip books to gauge the shifts in my moods.

I don’t know how others see me; I present a front–does it work?

I have few friends, it’s easier that way, to keep up the charade,

Because one thing I hate above all others is being misunderstood;

The fear of rejection, the fear of loss, the fear of holding on too tight.

Yet there are so few who understand, where it’s safe to be myself.

“Just suck it up, get it together, what’s wrong with you, you look perfectly fine.

There’s no reason for you to be so tired, it’s not as if you’re sick or anything like that.

There are people who have it so much worse than you, you should be grateful for what you have.

How long will all this take?

Do your part, get a job, contribute something to the world, to your upkeep, at least.”

If I stopped eating would I feel less guilty?

If I could sustain myself on the air, the same air I breathe to try to stay calm.

My focus, my attention, in altered states from new medications.

To sleep, and yes, to dream–quite vividly–a side effect, it seems.

I do have a sense of humor, a fairly quick wit; that’s not a charade.

My Kafkaesque armadillo to keep me safe.

(I think it would be difficult to get an armadillo into a straight jacket)

Does it work, my front? I don’t know how others see me,

With my invisible disabilities.