Protected: A tiny wallow

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These hands

Not quite a poem…no rhyming…but let’s call it that anyway for lack of a better word.

These hands…

Have laid waste to enemies

Have inflicted self-harm

Have built, and lost empires

Have wiped away tears of grief

Have waved goodbye to loved ones

Have clasped together in prayer

Have reached out for help

Have teased and pleasured a lover

Have held children with love and care

Have worked hard at rebuilding

Have helped others without asking for anything in return

Have created wonders

Have fixed what was broken

Have taught those ready to learn

Have searched for the truth

 

And has my heart, held gently, between them…

Glum

Morale at secret place is at an all time low this week. One of the 54 who got letters recently committed suicide on Sunday. This is the second person in the group to do so in the last month or so.

I knew this guy well, we spoke often. You’d be hard pressed to find a friendlier and more helpful person anywhere. I am actually really sad to know that he’s gone. It’s a shitty time of year to lose your job, I understand how someone with a family to support could feel like the walls are closing in…still, I wish he didn’t do it. One day at a time…tomorrow might have been better, and now he won’t be around to see if it is. His family will always have an empty space around the table and he will never be around again to find a way to put food on that table.

Gosh, it’s just so fucking tragic and unnecessary…

Secret place have set up a memorial spot in the one boardroom with a photo, a couple of candles and a gigantic bouquet where people can come and sign a card and write messages to his family if they want to. They’re also arranging transport for anyone who wants to attend the funeral on Friday (I’m hoping they’ll take from this that people are extremely anxious and stressed, and going round telling them “You might be next to lose your job” every other week might not be the best motivating stategy at the moment).

I went up to go write something, and was surprised to find myself crying. My family is no stranger to suicide, my grandfather did it – and I’ve seen what happens to the ones left behind. It’s a coward’s way out. No one wins or gains anything from it. It makes me equal parts sad and angry when someone does it.

 I know that losing your job puts A LOT of strain on a person, but when you’re teetering on that brink any excuse will do. If it wasn’t this thing, would it be the next thing? All things seem small and insignificant with some time and distance between you and them. Hang in there one more day, everything could turn around – or you find a little wiggle room somewhere to see you through somehow. Don’t think of the future as this big ominous thing that needs conquering. One day at a time, and if that’s too much – one hour at a time, and if that’s still more than you can face…just hang in for 10 minutes at a time. This too WILL pass. The sun will still rise in the East tomorrow.

*sigh* Dammit P, why did you have to go and do it this way? This building is full of people who wished you had rather spoken to them and asked for help.

Rest in peace my friend. It’s all over now.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

By Emily Dickinson 1830–1886 Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

 

 And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

Not the first time you’ve seen this poem on here…this is what I decided to write in the card.

Poem : Full of the joys of Spring!

My rhyming muscles are a bit rusty – it’s been a while – but we may as well start somewhere, right? 😉

Full of the joys of spring

Dawn creeps in,

Just a little bit earlier.

The sun smiles on me,

Just a little bit brighter.

 

The howling of the winter wind is replaced by

baby birds demanding breakfast after another long night.

New music to which I brush my teeth in the morning.

And the world just feels Right.

 

There’s no gentle thawing for me.

More like a burst of colour and light and song!

And happy…happy as the day is long.

Of course it is love.

Protected: Poem Day – What If…

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