Elegy (1996)

Dark Matter

Originally written in 1996.

These days they build
new doors out of balsa,
nearly out of butter, hollowcored, empty;
we are losing the thrill of opening doors.

No longer do we wish or try to push hard.
The clunk of brass latches falling into place is fading from memory.
We are forgetting the comfort that bubbled within us
once resistance was overcome.

We have disembodied ourselves.
Already unable to remain entranced
with the sounds of our lovers for long,
the day may be coming when each of us

will fail to recognize a brother, a sister;
soon, we may no longer know
anything our senses tell us.
The question rings out:

how can we sleep knowing
in the soles of our feet,
in the ledges of our ears,
that we are feeling less each day?

How can we sleep knowing
that all what of we move through daily
without giving it  attention
is…

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Dear Mother Earth 2018 — Annas Art – FärgaregårdsAnna

“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”  –  George Bernard Shaw

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”  – Margaret Mead

 

I am so sorry you have to experience anthropocene. Since I wrote to you in 2016 it feels like we humans haven’t done a single thing to make the anthropocene an anastrophe (opposite of catastrophe). I’m sorry for your melting glaciers, your burning forests, the tsunamis and all asphalt and concrete we humans smothering your […]

via Dear Mother Earth 2018 — Annas Art – FärgaregårdsAnna

Free books or the price of ignorance…

“A room without books is like a body without a soul.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

“If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.”  – Haruki Murakami 

“You don’t have to burn books to destoy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.”     – Ray Bradbury

For Jack Eason and the other authors who keep us in stories despite the struggle. Please visit Jack at his blog: https://havewehadhelp.wordpress.com/ and do all you can to support our independent authors, presses and publishers.  I owe so much to the books in my life as well as the neighbor’s daughters that taught a three year-old how to read. It saved me.

Free books or the price of ignorance…

The author says nobody wants to buy

Real books, waiting for kindle

Or what they can get for free

Long ago I learned that

Precious little is free

Waiting to see the strings attached

Or what might appear

From behind someone’s back

I will admit to a “free” book

But I did have to exchange one

Of my own precious volumes

The price to be paid

Yet Jack is right

The author deserves his compensation

When one writes, much of who we are

What we believe is invested in each word

Writing is not merely work, a job

It is opening veins and pouring

Out your blood, opening oneself

To the acid tongues of the critics,

Those judging not only your work

But your life, who you are

Fiction’s DNA, the authors reality

To take what is produced

Without re-numeration, theft

 

 

Remember, purchasing a good book is a gift you give yourself. It needs no batteries nor electricity and is easily shared. 

 

Bisous, 

Léa

 

 

Tueur orage

“She’s sociopathic. She will have no moral compunction in doing whatever is in her interests. It’s a simple as that.”   – Alexander McCall Smith, The Sunday Philosophy Club

 

 *

 

Tueur orage

Yes!

I must say it in French

The words more

Menacing than storm

Killer works either way

She was the darkest of

Une tornade – invisible or hovering

Fierce – ready to strike

Panther-esque

Orage – filled with rage

Her tiny frame

Violent, destructive

Wrecking havoc on

Lives of anyone who

Dared enter her periphery

Eyes of an eagle, tracking

Movements of her prey

Strikes – random,

Frequent, demoralizing

Slicing each victim to

Bone – carcass gleaned

Yet careful to conceal

Her handiwork – life in a

Minefield – can anyone

Call this living?

Husband dies young

She cannot harm him again

Destruction – annihilating

Narcissistic sociopaths – a

Darkness light cannot penetrate

*

Bisous,

Léa

No – only pity in the end

“…You don’t have to wait for someone to treat you bad repeatedly. All it takes is once, and if they get away with it that once, if they know they can treat you like that, then it sets the pattern for the future.”   – Anonymous

 

“History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.”   – Maya Angelou

 

 

 

No – only pity in the end

The toaster doesn’t

Produce faster

Because you are in

A hurry

No

Turning up the

Volume of your

Diatribes will not

Improve the outcome

No

The bruises never showed

You took great care they wouldn’t

Head and back your targets

No, your story has

Carried you thus far

Has covered up the tracks

At least nobody asked

Questions

Curiosity – my fatal flaw

Truths you never uttered

No

A little girl

Was no match for your

Rage

And no one ever got that close

No

You didn’t win

I escaped – I survived

The cracks in your amour

Are widening but nobody cares

No

You continue to strike out – yet

I am out of reach

Regardless, I am free

Many scars won’t heal – but

I’ve chosen Joy

No

There is no hatred

That is your disease

The only feeling

I have for you

Pity

 

*

Bisous,

Léa

Un Cadeau de Silence

“Simply having children does not make mothers.” – John A. Shedd

“I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”
– Elie Wiesel

“I write for those women who do not speak, for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified, because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves. We’ve been taught that silence would save us, but it won’t.”
– Audre Lorde

Un Cadeau de Silence

Amazon

Wants me to

Find the

Perfect gift

For mom

Mother’s day

Will soon

Be upon

Us

She will

Be upon

With the

Stick

The hard rubber brush

The chemicals

The rituals

Upon me

Beating childhood

Like a seal pup

Until all that remains

Is the bloody pulp

Survival required

Blocking out

So many years

Time and distance

Are both

Healers

Mother’s day

Flashbacks

But the war is

Over

For me

Six-thousand miles

A buffer

Zone

Let

The Hague

Try her crimes

The gift of

Silence

No longer

On the

Table

And

I

Will not

Be

Bought

Bisous,

Léa