APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain
|Bit of a cop out, spouting poetry, but my mind is addled with a combination of pain killers and sad news so I'm struggling to find words.
Studying TS Eliot's The Wasteland for A Level English some 30 years ago I found it morbid and achingly self-indulgent, but on reading it again after experiencing love and loss for myself it becomes strangely enlightening.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water.
Bringing with it beauty and hope.
No matter how jaded we are from pain, grief or just life in general, who could not fail to have their spirits lifted by a freshly opened petal or a green shoot unfurling?
...and I've painted one of my skip rescued planters in Krista's colours, so she knows I'm thinking of her.
I'm battered and almost broken after another busy weekend. Kinky Melon's got next weekend off but I haven't. There's an adventure and an exciting (for me) announcement on the cards that requires me to be in tip top form later this week.
See you soon!
PS If you've got a minute check out my interview with the hip website Le Blow.