Solitude, my mother, tell me my life again

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The sky is up above the roof

So blue, so calm

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Verlaine (written while in prison)

the sky is waiting to be touched by a hand

of fabulous childhood...

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E. Vandercamem

 

Solitude, my mother, tell me my life again.

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O.V.de Milosz

I am mid-week of the second week of a liquid cleansing fast.

Adding freshly juiced fruits and vegies to the mix yesterday made as if I drank a Starbucks mocha sugar drink plus cookies.  Whoo hoo.

My beagle keeps looking at me as if to say 

"But where's the Beef momma, where's the beef !"

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After a few days of silence, my husband forbidden to speak too, a certain tenderness pervades the house.

Most language used for daily life, absent, creates tangible space.

On the third day I felt like whistling, so I did.

Words came out of me later that night in the kitchen, I felt them bounce against the cabinets the counter and my husband's face. They came back at me as energy, and I knew--

words as power.

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Today is the 90 years since women were given the right to vote.

I say, Vote for yourself.

Always vote for yourself, you know how you want the world.

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Joan Armatrading   "there's more beauty in you than anyone"

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Peace to all who enter here.

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