Being able to say the right thing when it’s needed is the goal. Whether in word or thought. I want to praise, adore my friend Di who is going through such a such a difficult illness right now.
Di, if you read this, you are a shining light, a diamond and we cannot bear not being in contact with you.
In the end, goodness wins. I’m sure of that, so that whatever comes, whatever happens, the love of those who surround you will never cease. You are entitled to feel, do exactly as you wish.
Illness is temporary interruption. Here’s probably my favourite poem at the moment. For what it’s worth:
The Darkling Thrush
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
With abundant love.