Desiccant

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And then all that has sustained will decay

And then the ignorant may no longer be blind

And then dry deserts will devour all that was fecund and free

 

And then the great and the poor will be desperate

And then the poor and the great will be parched

And then hoards of money will no longer cause a great divide

 

And then all Earth will be wasteland or dead sea

And then the greed of some will be vanquished by the needs of many

 

And then all will share equally in Nature’s harsh vengeance

 

And then all will drown like the sick and the weak and the old

 

And then parents will gaze on their young

And then the young will die in their arms

 

And then Earth will be free of our species once again.

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This poem is inspired by Judy Chicago’s ‘Merger Poem’an altogether joyous, inspirational piece that, in my hopeful and happy moments, I really enjoy and admire.

Bizarrely, ‘Desiccant’ came to me out of seemingly thin air as I was lying in bed early this morning. Except of course it hasn’t come out of nowhere given the state of the world both politically and environmentally. I’m a great supporter of Extinction Rebellion’s work, so I dedicate this poem to them, and to Greta Thunberg, who has started a revolution where others have failed. 

 

Bedlam – A Dash of Sunny

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I imagined you, standing over me,

breathing your death-breath into my soul.

I imagined my lungs inflating with the ashes of you

and I pressed against my chest to stop inhaling you –

but you were too strong.

You held my gaze,

your hazel eyes piercing mine

and I could see the thoughts in your head –

the roiling, churning black and vomit yellow

and I could not stop them infecting my

azure blue and foxglove purple.

You stole my days

You infused my nights

You were relentless.

I imagined you standing over me

and yet when I reached out for you,

you were not there.


 

It’s time for the latest prompt from A Dash of Sunny, where this week we are invited to write on loss and madness.

It’s no secret here to those who know me, that my dad died suddenly in 2013. I truly thought, during the time of sitting for 12 days, watching him slowly fade from coma to death, that I was going mad. I’m sure I wasn’t alone. It felt so unreal and surreal, and yet everyone at some point loses someone they love. How are we so unable to explain and prepare for this?

Anyway, during that time, and for a period after his death, my dreams were, unsurprisingly, very disturbed. it’s how we process and attempt to make sense of it all.

I hope this isn’t too depressing. Also – I am fine now! It’s just part of life’s rich tapestry, isn’t it?

Please do head on over to A Dash of Sunny and brace yourselves for strong, honest writing!

Yitgadal v’yitkadash – dVerse Haibun Monday

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Sitting in a hospital, watching and waiting for my father to die, that was my memory of three years ago. I remember the bizarre juxtaposition of the glorious, scorching summer outside, and sitting in the shadow of partially-drawn curtains, as if the room was already preparing us for mourning, for the stopping of all the clocks. A butterfly danced in the breeze of the oscillating fan, fluttering above our heads as if attempting to lighten the atmosphere, enticing us outside with the glories of Nature dusted brilliantly on its wings. It didn’t seem right that the heady perfume of honeysuckle should still waft in through the half open window whilst life was disappearing in front of our eyes. But on the other hand…

sunlight and fragrance

haunt our days with rich hints of

renewal – the end.


 

dVerse is back to its normal post-anniversary-celebration schedule, with Haibun Monday! This week, our lovely host Toni has asked us to write on the theme of summer, heat, keeping cool and our memories of the challenges of the dog days.

As you can see from above, my dad died in the summer three years ago, and it was the oddest experience, something so sad and challenging happening in such a heatwave. It didn’t seem quite right.

Please do hop on over to dVerse and see how others have interpreted the challenge – no haibun will be the same as any other!

Oh, and by the way, the name of this pieces is inspired by the opening words of the Jewish prayer, the Mourner’s Kaddish – the words mean ‘glorified and sanctified’.