Rust In The Gears Gravity pulls gods from skies and stars, Demons from earth and darkness. Bone fingers scratch Leave dried blood on static windows sills. Death skirts, clicks a skinless jaw, Abandons broken stepping stones.
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Categories
In The Pasture
Falling down for a lot of elderly people is a big fear mainly because it brings with it the possibility of breaking a limb, hip or causing other damage to an already frail body.
Any fall is not pleasant even if no damage is done because there is always next time. It leaves a sense vulnerability and anxiety that at some point in the future there will be another fall, and maybe it will not be without a dramatic result. This is not confined to the person who has fallen, but also for carers who often witness the fall.
Last Tuesday Dad had a fall in what was a simple event where his walking aid wheel stopped for a second, it was enough to throw him off balance, and holding an orange in one of his hands he was not able to grip the walkers handle to steady himself and recover his balance. And down he went.
Luckily not damage was done, but there is always a shadow of self blame where as a carer you feel you should have somehow prevented it – like The Flash coming to the rescue at the speed of light. While it is not your fault, it does sting with the feeling it is. You have to tell yourself you feel this way because you care before putting the misplaced guilt out to pasture in the past.
Writer’s block does not always mean you do not write, sometimes, words can hit the page but they are not want you want.
Space Invisible as forgotten memories Space stretches beyond the fingers Runs quicker than light beams, Sends inkless letters in paper airplanes. In the airstream thoughts circle like vultures Break discordant on barren land.
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Tar
G
ear changing with manual gears takes timing and effort. Sometimes depression feels the same. You lose the will to change gear, to put the effort in and sometimes when you try to change gear to move forward you end up grinding the gears.
L
lately I have not been good hence the lack of content. Not good is as always an underestimate, a deflection from the truth to keep the stitches that hold you together from ripping.
Uplift is hard when your feet of your mind feel continuously caught in tar which pulls tirelessly at you. And sometimes the harder you pull against the gravity the more it pulls you down, threatens to swallow you whole.
E
verything is a struggle at the moment, but I accept the continuing challenge. It is easy to smash things to bits, hard to craft and glue them together, to build something where nothing once stood.
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Urban Fox
The garden has been a cut through for foxes for some years. They know you are there and any movement will cause them to make a quick exit.
This is possibly a fox who when they were a cub used to climb the birdbath for a drink. The same here, although now larger there is not much room left to get all four paws on.
At this moment I am being eyed after trying to get closer to the window to get a shot. I froze and the fox fixed a stare, until happy I was not moving ,then set about jumping off the birdbath and exploring the garden.
One of the magpies who is a regular visitor was not entirely impressed with the “unauthorized” visitor as it watched from the top of garden ornament not to far way from the fox. The fox was interested in lunch after taking a drink, but the magpie, well they do have an art for teasing other animals.
Not quite sure what spooked the fox, possibly a noise locally and it quickly padded back through the hole to park.