Many silent moons ago I lost quite a few very dear friends to AIDS--not havin' (of course) any CLUE to Dark Lord Fauxchee's horrific role in THAT plandemic/scamdemic, not knowing that these dear souls who once made me smile and with whom I shared so many good memories--of creative collaboration, of old movies and good books enjoyed together, of music wild and wacky, of dancin' until dawn! of good cooking and even better company!--could've ALL been spared this mystery plague that was...sadly...tragically....as is today...tied in with choices they made.
And so I too didn't pass judgement...on the poppers prolific, on the partners plentiful, on disastrous diets (not ta mention diet-pills dangerous...), and on so much more that I felt was unwise and unsafe--and yet which didn't really affect their daytime ability to work well and enjoy friendships to the fullest. There were some rifts (lies, assumptions...the latter being worse actually...) and then of course there was The End...holding chill-damp hands at hospital bedside, looking at the drips going into parched veins, knowing that even though they, my friends, were "still there"--in fact, they were GONE.
You tell my story too Mary. Thank you! I never really found words for how I felt--but it WAS bearing witness.... so true. And perhaps also... burning witness... as we witness we keep a slow burning pain inside, even knowing the hearts of those fading were searing more. So and thus, I too bore witness .more than once.....and had to take a deep breath and hold the clammy hands---and my tongue. Just bein' there seemed right. I guess it was like this for you too... I can see it so clearly, line by line....
Was this loss recent? A dear friend... I am so sorry. And you knew... and you know.
Thankfully most friends (or former ones) I currently know who have been lost to "covidianism" (some I DO think got saline) are still on this Earth. Mercifully my own jab-damaged Ma has been (thus) spared the worst--as she even now recovers from a post-jab-stroke or "something" they couldn't figger out (doi) as she relearns to walk... a far cry from her up-and-down-the-stairs-runnin'-after-her-dogs former self.... (To this less dire form of sufferin' we also, in a way, bear witness...)
I know that many of us might YET have to bear witness, or do so again, over time...
...given what we KNOW. This piece may be the crystalized lament of these tenuous times. It's a beautiful and true and sad song--I simply hope that it's not one we'll need to sing often as it's not easy to bear for any of us. Nevertheless, keep 'em comin' !
Oh Daisy... your comment brought tears to my eyes. Your story, my story... OUR story. It's an honor to give words to it, and to read your words in response. I wish I could reach through this comment box and surround you with a massive hug.
"Burn witness," yes. The pain of the observer is fiery and unique; is this not why torturers commit atrocities within view of victim's loved ones?
This was not a recent loss, but thank you for your compassion. It happened a long time ago, but when I started writing this poem a week ago, my friend showed up in my meditation and I knew I needed to tell her/our story now.
Prayers coming your way for your ma's continued recovery, and for your continued witnessing of her struggle. This life ain't easy, and the powers that be seem hell-bent on making it even harder.
"the crystalized lament of these tenuous times." Wow, that's poetry right there. I will do my best to keep 'em comin'. You, too.
yes, OUR stories--and knowin' what I know now--that all my friends would still be on this planet IF the truth had come out... at the time. But the mockin' birds were chirpin' even then... The casualties now are pilin' up fast--even though the losses to which we bore witness were not so recent-- this is SUCH A story for our times--so grateful you're tellin' it! BIG HUG back at 'cha--I feel that these stacks are like writin' wartime love letters to fambly an' friends... perhaps WE are the ones on the front... fightin'.... and still dreamin' fer peace...
Gosh, your poetry just pierces through, doesn’t it? This is simply superb, thank you, Mary.
If you keep your light on, and I keep my light on, and Margaret, and Kathleen, and Tessa, and all the light burners out there do, well, then, the world gets to be pretty bright, doesn’t it? 🤗
This is the great task before us. Bearing witness bathed in mercy to choices that have consequences. Everyone of a certain ilk needs this poem, this lifeboat, in their metaphorical toolbox, for courage.
I think you captured an important thought and expressed your feelings brilliantly – it was moving to read...it stirred some emotions inside of me that I’ve left unattended for too long.
Mary, this poem hurts to read. As Visceral Adventure says, it's piercing, and I felt it go right through.
David Whyte (I think) says: ... "the ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the other nor of the self, the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone." xox
Many silent moons ago I lost quite a few very dear friends to AIDS--not havin' (of course) any CLUE to Dark Lord Fauxchee's horrific role in THAT plandemic/scamdemic, not knowing that these dear souls who once made me smile and with whom I shared so many good memories--of creative collaboration, of old movies and good books enjoyed together, of music wild and wacky, of dancin' until dawn! of good cooking and even better company!--could've ALL been spared this mystery plague that was...sadly...tragically....as is today...tied in with choices they made.
And so I too didn't pass judgement...on the poppers prolific, on the partners plentiful, on disastrous diets (not ta mention diet-pills dangerous...), and on so much more that I felt was unwise and unsafe--and yet which didn't really affect their daytime ability to work well and enjoy friendships to the fullest. There were some rifts (lies, assumptions...the latter being worse actually...) and then of course there was The End...holding chill-damp hands at hospital bedside, looking at the drips going into parched veins, knowing that even though they, my friends, were "still there"--in fact, they were GONE.
You tell my story too Mary. Thank you! I never really found words for how I felt--but it WAS bearing witness.... so true. And perhaps also... burning witness... as we witness we keep a slow burning pain inside, even knowing the hearts of those fading were searing more. So and thus, I too bore witness .more than once.....and had to take a deep breath and hold the clammy hands---and my tongue. Just bein' there seemed right. I guess it was like this for you too... I can see it so clearly, line by line....
Was this loss recent? A dear friend... I am so sorry. And you knew... and you know.
Thankfully most friends (or former ones) I currently know who have been lost to "covidianism" (some I DO think got saline) are still on this Earth. Mercifully my own jab-damaged Ma has been (thus) spared the worst--as she even now recovers from a post-jab-stroke or "something" they couldn't figger out (doi) as she relearns to walk... a far cry from her up-and-down-the-stairs-runnin'-after-her-dogs former self.... (To this less dire form of sufferin' we also, in a way, bear witness...)
I know that many of us might YET have to bear witness, or do so again, over time...
...given what we KNOW. This piece may be the crystalized lament of these tenuous times. It's a beautiful and true and sad song--I simply hope that it's not one we'll need to sing often as it's not easy to bear for any of us. Nevertheless, keep 'em comin' !
Oh Daisy... your comment brought tears to my eyes. Your story, my story... OUR story. It's an honor to give words to it, and to read your words in response. I wish I could reach through this comment box and surround you with a massive hug.
"Burn witness," yes. The pain of the observer is fiery and unique; is this not why torturers commit atrocities within view of victim's loved ones?
This was not a recent loss, but thank you for your compassion. It happened a long time ago, but when I started writing this poem a week ago, my friend showed up in my meditation and I knew I needed to tell her/our story now.
Prayers coming your way for your ma's continued recovery, and for your continued witnessing of her struggle. This life ain't easy, and the powers that be seem hell-bent on making it even harder.
"the crystalized lament of these tenuous times." Wow, that's poetry right there. I will do my best to keep 'em comin'. You, too.
yes, OUR stories--and knowin' what I know now--that all my friends would still be on this planet IF the truth had come out... at the time. But the mockin' birds were chirpin' even then... The casualties now are pilin' up fast--even though the losses to which we bore witness were not so recent-- this is SUCH A story for our times--so grateful you're tellin' it! BIG HUG back at 'cha--I feel that these stacks are like writin' wartime love letters to fambly an' friends... perhaps WE are the ones on the front... fightin'.... and still dreamin' fer peace...
Love letters, for SURE A beautiful image, one that I needed right now. Thank you, dear Daisy ❤️
Gosh, your poetry just pierces through, doesn’t it? This is simply superb, thank you, Mary.
If you keep your light on, and I keep my light on, and Margaret, and Kathleen, and Tessa, and all the light burners out there do, well, then, the world gets to be pretty bright, doesn’t it? 🤗
You're welcome, Tonika, and thank you for the hopeful image of all the light burners doing what they came here to do. Feeling brighter already... xox
🕯️
Hauntingly beautiful, Mary. Bravo!
Thank you, Holly!
This is the great task before us. Bearing witness bathed in mercy to choices that have consequences. Everyone of a certain ilk needs this poem, this lifeboat, in their metaphorical toolbox, for courage.
You’re a gift, Dear Mary. Thank you.
So grateful for your beautiful comment, G., which helps keep me afloat. We are all lifeboats for each other, no? xox
Your poem is beautiful.
I think you captured an important thought and expressed your feelings brilliantly – it was moving to read...it stirred some emotions inside of me that I’ve left unattended for too long.
Thank you. I'm glad, Jack. Unattended emotions tend to stick -- like an unstirred risotto... xox
They certainly do...
Mary, this poem hurts to read. As Visceral Adventure says, it's piercing, and I felt it go right through.
David Whyte (I think) says: ... "the ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the other nor of the self, the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone." xox
Thank you, Rocket. Ah, David Whyte -- a genius of heart and soul. What a perfect quote to share here.
And xox to you, too! :-)
Beautiful. Thank you. 💜
Exquisitely poignant, Mary. Chills.
Thank you, M.A.A. Grateful for your presence here!