Harvest Prayer


Lady Goddess of the night,

Fill my room bathed in light.

Heal my body and my mind,

What I seek, I shall find.

Whatever path shall carry me,

Give me clear eyes, that I may see.

To assist in journeys, wondrous place.

To feel light and happiness upon my face.

Goddess help me to be free 

To grow with flower, herb and tree.

Lead me onward to the sun,

Barefoot, grounded as I run.

Help me learn what it is to be, 

So I embrace this bright new me.

Love is stronger than to hate,

Don’t take it lightly or underestimate.

Beauty remains and to behold,

More to us than silver or gold.

Loved by my little family,

We’re stronger with the power of three.

For riches are beyond compare,

By my side my family there.

Blessed by what you’ve given me.

A gift of just being free.

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Tock Tick, 

Tick tock, tick tock

Incessant noise from the clock

Tock tick, tock tick
All the while that I am sick.

It carries on doesn’t want to stop

When I am ready just to drop.

Reminds me that time marches on

While they figure out what is wrong.

All the while as I lay in my bed

The noise I hear going through my head 

Layers upon layer it’s there underneath,

Hear it so loud I clench my teeth.

While there is pain my body quakes,

Blood pumping fast I have the shakes.

Ever changing from the norm,

My life has taken on new form.

So different now from before,

Not knowing what it has in store.

On most days I live in pain,

Thankful for some small gain.

The gratitude when things go right,

When I can sleep through the night.

When I can feel I do not shirk,

And I’m able to do some work.

See my way through the brain fog,

To enable me to walk the dog.

Walk up the road from side to side,

Stagger along with him at my side.

Is she alright or is she drunk?

Wish I could escape from this funk.

Erratic emotions cause alarm,

Losing all my grace and charm.

Will they notice my thoughts are mussed,

Or disregard they are not fussed.

People have fallen by the way,

As I fight through each day.

Some are still there as they should,

They are the ones who are kind and good.

Yes life has changed beyond recognition,

Going forward, time out, this intermission.

For this is not how it will stay for me,

I’m sure it’s only temporary.

Over time I’ll start to get better,

Once again be that go-getter.

I hope that it’s not permanent,

For this is not how my life’s meant.

The New Me?

The new me…

If I can make it through a 12 hour day without crawling back to bed in pain. I am feeling lucky.

Where I haven’t fallen over, scalded myself, dropped something, hurt myself or stepped on the dog then it is an achievement.

Where when I wake up and look at my phone I can see clearly without the blurred vision and the floaters that cloud my eyes. The headaches which are becoming ever more frequent and lasting longer. Sitting around with a clenched jaw because most noise is too loud. The watch which is no longer worn because the ticking keeps me awake and gives me a headache. The hum of appliances as I walk past them make me feel queasy. A passing odour which can linger for hours, bring on a headache or turn the stomach. An onslaught to my heightened senses.

Where I’ve held a conversation which has made sense and all the words have arrived in their correct sequence to impart whatever I wanted so desperately to say. Without the tears of frustration escaping and emotions running high.

A day where I’ve been able to take a shower and get dressed, because I didn’t fall over in it. Or if I feel really good I don’t resort to using the shower seat and can co-ordinate my limbs without them hurting and shaking and having to sit down part way through.

I don’t wear make up very often, there seems little point I rarely go out at the moment. One essential shopping trip per week usually accompanied since I am often too ill to drive myself.

On a good day when I make food I don’t split the packets on the food I try to prepare sending the contents skidding across the worktop or worse the floor. I am able to make a cup of coffee without dropping the jar and I can even drink it without throwing it all over my clothes.

Sometimes I can manage the weight of the laundry awaiting try to hang it out on the line. Some days I can even walk the dog, who trots along patiently at this new slower pace, nuzzling me to reassure. I can put on shoes, with socks only for an hour because my feet feel as though I am walking over hot stones. My boots are without laces, because I am unable to tie them. They come off the minute I get home so that I can cool them down again, the slightest exertion and my hands are the same. Washing up water hurts and they throb for hours afterwards.

Other days I cannot do these things. I slink back to bed, try to sleep, willing the pain to go, the tremors to stop and my thoughts to make sense to me. I hope that the painkillers work, that things will change for the better. I hope that I don’t choke when my throat goes into spasm and wakes me coughing loudly anything around my neck feels tight, from the inside out.

I have a sense of humour, I guess watching from the outside it might be funny to see some of these things as they happen if this weren’t the new me.

It is not the me that I want to be, or thought that I would be. 

I am hoping that this is the temporary me, one that will improve soon to be replaced with a faster, streamlined and efficient model in the same skin, only skin that doesn’t itch and crawl.

A new me that is not cheated from the plans I have made for the future and the life I want to lead one who has the energy to go out and get it and be me.

When Loved Ones Revisit. 

I don’t know if you believe that loved ones who have moved on to another life visit you to remind you from time to time. I am a firm believer in this. The Robin who appears every day singing its little heart out on the hill whenever we are there. Who first appeared when we scattered some of Kato’s ashes in his favourite spot. It always comes to see us in front of the house, singing loudly to announce its arrival. This year it showed us its new baby, just as we did. We showed it ours and it returned daily whilst we were there. 
Yesterday was the year anniversary of my last accident. When a wonderful surgeon spent three hours stitching my face back together after going off duty. For which I will be eternally grateful. She did a wonderful job. Quite often you can barely make out the scars, the skin has healed very well. I am still working on the emotional ones. It takes time.

Then one year ago today we lost our beloved Kato. It broke our hearts a day we will never forget when we had to say Goodbye. We have been grieving for a year. Yesterday we were talking about him. We often do because we talk about most things and it helps us both. 

As we spoke of him suddenly we were joined in the garden by the most enormous and beautiful dragonfly we have ever seen it was four inches long and just as wide, you couldn’t miss it as it flew over us.

Now dragonflies are known as reminders of loved ones who have passed away.

The dragonfly swooped around in front of us both and swirled around our heads. Roki stood up and barked, which is unusual for him and went over to where it stopped to take a look. It landed on the honeysuckle right where Kato saved the baby bird by letting me know it had fallen from its nest and was trapped in the branches and made sure that I rescued it and set it free.

The dragonfly sat there for about five minutes. It was larger than life and close up it looked black and white with silvery wings. Of course it was. It embodied everything that Kato was in that sentence.

It made me quite emotional to see it. Touched by this thing of beauty. I went inside to get my phone to see if I could get a photo of it, it took a while to see it sitting there camouflaged in the bush but look closely on the middle of the bush as I did to get this photo and you will see it. After I spoke to it, it flew skywards. I prayed that it would have a safe journey and return to me. 

I am sharing with you again today my poem Butterflies and Dragonflies written last year, a short while after he passed away.

https://indiablue.co.uk/2016/09/03/butterflies-dragonflies/

A burst of creativity 

25/6/17 After a week of feeling exhausted with high levels of pain and very little sleep I was met with an inspired moment. So this weekend’s sudden burst of creativity has come about by this….

A small pot of local flowers from my garden which either looked pretty or smelled nice. I thought I might be able to make some pot pourri to send to my friend in Australia as part of her birthday gift and to remind her of home. I miss her even more since she emigrated. Yes I have lots of wild flowers which have grown in the wrong place (otherwise known as weeds) but they are blooming and some of them smell rather lovely too so I’m not afraid to include them.

Unfortunately I then looked it up and found out that you cannot send plant matter to Australia since they have strict laws. So I thought about making her a wildflower bouquet mixed up with the ones from my garden and photographing it for her. Perhaps I would make it onto a notebook so she can write a journal, or get it printed for her and put in a frame. Who knows but on our evening walk we collected more and since it was a rainstorm by the time we arrived home I had to store them in the fridge overnight and so this was made today. 


It adorned my dining table for the day as I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it next. Send it with blessings to the wind, or make the pot pourri out of it, it does smell rather nice. In the end I have opted for both. 

I was inspired by an artist named Day Schildkret who on his walks collects things and makes beautiful sculptural earth alters from his foraged finds which he photographs. Known as Impermanent Earth Art You can see his work at http://www.morningalters.com I love his work and am perfectly happy when doing my own foraging for beautiful things.

But it somehow set the ball rolling. Last night I wrote up my poems to the pc from the notebooks of my last trip it boosted my morale again finding out that I have almost reached my quota for my second book selection (a further 100 poems) and it seemed to trigger the writing again, suddenly whizzing around my head. This morning I wrote a poem about my friend who has invited me to her wedding next week. I plan to give it to her for a gift and thought that I need to do something else for them too. I am all for a bit of upcycled giftware and have made her a recycled roof slate chalkboard with the wedding couples initials in a logo and the date of their union. The slates were reclaimed from Scotland. I have a few of them I intended to make up for some friends and family or perhaps sell at a later date.


I hope that they like it. 

I also made one for our home which is personal to us. This has become our catchphrase of late since wherever we are as long as we are together it’s home.

It seems that I have been able to write more poetry this week. Not all of it suited to a book, or here but had to be written nevertheless.

The Yellow Mini

It was her first one. Mum’s first car of her very own. A yellow Mini with a Black roof and bonnet stripes. In the brightest yellow that she could find. Yes it was loud and it resembled all of the things she wanted to be. Racy, Daring, Fun and it reminded of her of a bee, which she loved, because it was bright yellow and black.

It would take her to places she had never been before where the only limit was the fuel she could put in the tank. She would pack her bag and drive to her parents, once the caring for them was over for the weekend, she would return to her family. Racing the fast cars along the forest roads with a smile stretched out across her face. She felt alive behind the wheel, with a spirit of adventure, just for that short time.

It gave her the freedom she had so long craved. Freedom from the day to day, whatever the weather. The other motorists smiled as she passed them by. Her happiness beaming like a beacon across her face. She loved that car, for all it represented to her and they had no idea.

The Daily Post – Yellow

 

How Many Do We Get?

A leading question and forgive me for a moment if I’m going to go deep…

I am talking about how many chances to make a new life? Something better than before, or at least different. I am sometimes likened to a cat by those who know me, but I wonder whether I have the nine lives people so often speak of. I don’t know how many chances I have had. I have never thought to count them before or even how many I may have already used up and I’m not going to start now.  For whatever the answer is, I am grateful.

What I do know is that throughout our life we are given so many opportunities to make it different. Some we may miss. It may be that we simply don’t see them at the time. Or that they come out of nowhere and we reach out and life as we know it changes completely.

I want to tell you about one such time in my life. It was 8 years ago (Oh how time flies) this week, just days before my Birthday.

I had prayed so long for the moment, hell I’d even begged for it. The operation which I was sure would change my adult life from the one that had been plagued thus far with pain and illness. Once they had found out that the cause of all this misery was Endometriosis, an incurable condition and I had met the specialist, then he could set about sorting me out finally. I was overflowing with hope of what would come to me in my new life after they agreed to give me a full hysterectomy. The pressure in the past that I’d felt, to provide children to complete my existence was suddenly removed and I could finally move on from it. By just announcing “I can’t have children”, instead of the wistful ” I don’t have children…. yet.” Somehow the weight was instantly lifted and it was just accepted by others as well as myself. It was also possible that since my pain and symptoms were cyclical and my menstrual cycle outweighed the rest of the month, this surgery just might put an end to it in one fell swoop. It was a drastic approach, but I had tried everything else that was suggested and it hadn’t worked, I was by then absolutely desperate.

Of course I had the last minute doubts before the operation because it was so final. But, the pro’s definitely outweighed con’s in my mind as I thought about the opportunity to actually start living and be able to follow some of my dreams without being held back by my condition at last. My partner was a tower of strength and supported my decision all the way, he wasn’t going anywhere he said, we were in this together.

There were moments in the past where I had gone after a dream and encouraged by my partner had gone far and achieved things that I had not thought possible.

I awoke from the operation euphoric. Full of hope for what might come next in our lives, after the three months recovery time at home I would need. Thankful for being given the chance at starting my adult life over again. I was now going to be able to go out there and actually begin to live it! I was also extremely grateful that this time I had understanding bosses who had agreed the time off on full pay that I would need. It was such a huge relief that we did not have that particular stress hanging over us through that.

I healed really quickly on the outside and felt invincible and ready to take on the world. My partner held on tightly to the reigns for a while to stop me doing something that would set my recovery back and I started straight away on HRT patches so that I wouldn’t go into a menopausal state with immediate effect. I didn’t want to go through that on top of it all and since I was young I wanted something that would protect me from the brittle bones often suffered post menopause for as long as possible. I am still using them.

So how do I feel 8 years on from this?  Did my new life begin? Was it as awesome as I thought it would become back then?

Well, yes I got a new life compared to the old one. It started to be like most lives, it’s been a pretty mixed bag.  Not always awesome, it has been filled with ups and downs, we have been sick and healthy, jobs have come and gone. I have lost people and loved ones along the way. I have fought for what I believed in, I have tried to remain strong even when I did not think it were possible.  I have often felt as though I am at rock bottom but I have had my loved ones beside me along the way but most of all it is not over yet.  There is no “fat lady” singing yet.

I have gone sometimes off at tangents over the past few years, not really knowing where it would lead but I want the other chances which might be open to me.  A life can be long or short, we have no way of knowing which of those we will have.  As mine continues I will look for the opportunities in the hope that they present themselves as often as possible. I hope I will find them, at the corner of every street, on every day that I am lucky to wake up and to breathe and in every person I am lucky enough to meet. Yes, I do see those things as blessings, sometimes in disguise, but experience is gained from every encounter.

I haven’t yet worked out for my purpose is for this world, I feel as though somehow I am being led to help others.  I am not sure of the direction but I am certain that I have a place and I belong here and I want to make a difference, somewhere to someone.