Photo Friday is happening, as usual. I don’t often write poetry; today I was moved to write this, in memory of yesterday’s attack at Westminster and Parliament House.
© 2017 Karen J Carlisle.
Today I weep.
I weep for the injured
I weep for the dead.
I weep for those left behind.
I weep for those who only know hate
Even when love tries to save them.
Today I hope this is the last time I weep
And I weep that I am wrong.
James was a giant of a man. It wasn’t hard to believe he’d been a policeman in the Sudan. Yet he was as gentle as a teddy bear with a cheeky grin that lit up those around him. I cherished his warm hugs – always guaranteed to cheer me up, no matter how exhausted or how disheartened I felt.
He smiled when I practiced my partially-remembered Dinka and always asked (genuinely) about my family. Family was important to James. Friends were important to James. His home country was important to James. He would often return to North Sudan, to help. This time he won’t return.
Yesterday I received the news. James had died. He’d hidden much of his health issues, insisting on helping other. I was in shock. I’d grown to treasure my ‘James hugs’. I will miss them.
My heart aches for his family – for Amel, his lovely wife, and his children. James only touched my life; he was a big part of theirs. I grieve with them as they organise their next steps without their husband and father. May God bless and look after them.
Today there is a hole in my heart.
Rest in peace James.
Monday 6th April, 2015.
We just had our Easter long weekend. It started well and slid into fantastic. I made headway on my costume for the upcoming Oz ComicCon. My daughter started on hers. We scored two trailer loads of pavers from Freecycle (the people were lovely. I wish they lived closer.) and I finished off filming for my next book trailer.
Then we were all blindsided. Almost literally. Until a few months ago, she has been a ‘healthy geriatric cat’, according to the vet. They are impressed on how healthy she actually is. We have been managing a benign tumour on her side. She last saw the vet on Monday. They were happy with her progress. On Sunday, my dear twenty-two year old Devon Rex, Tisha, went blind. We had been suspecting she was going blind. I could see her cataracts. She was not as gungho as usual. She now wanders around aimlessly, knocking into the occasional object. She gets lost and mews.
It is breaking my heart. Her (as unconditional as cats can be) love got me through a painful divorce, illnesses and anxiety attacks. She is a pedigree cat, descended from the likes of Gollum and The Prince of Darkness. (I kid you not; it is on her papers.) Tisha was named after Morticia Addams. The name suits her perfectly; she is regal, Queen of all she surverys and a scamp. She has been a sometimes-mouser, devastator of cockroaches (we have not seen one for decades) and stealer of sausages.
We have spent the past few sleepless nights consoling, guiding and hugging our poor frightened puss, enjoying the calming purrs while we can. She can no longer see where her food is, nor her litter. We are exhausted. We are doing our best to try to get some sleep and discussing our options. Our house is very stressed right now. My anxiety levels are nearing the levels that necessitated me leaving work.
My sincerest apologies to my readers. I will endeavour to post regularly in the next few weeks. I am trying to keep up my planned schedule for my upcoming book. Please forgive me if it all goes awry.
Update: Tuesday 7th April, 2015.
I hope my tears do not fry the computer, as I type. Today I lost my dear Tish. We have just returned from the vet.
After 22 years,
the house is silent.
My heart cries in pain.
Rest in peace dear Tisha.