My Christmas scene 2022, today. He will be there only in a few hours. Detail. JB.
A very strange Xmas, this one.
I pray above all for my daughter. Please, Jesus, come again!
Oh, I know you’ll be here again, as i know you’re still here.
Yet show us you. Show us the Beauty. Our beauty too. Please do it!
These grey days, this my grey, this grey that enters us paint, change it into a blue hope, please, do! That’s no peace but sad silence
Her eyes show gloomy sadness, those eyes, that were merry and beautiful and that are beautiful now. I see dismay and grey in her eyes. You can change them by showing a path
These black days, this my black This black that permeates days paint it, change. This black that smells as death, death of those missed, those that are too many now, You can lighten with bright green of leaves
You are the light of a world that lost its meaning during so cold winter night, groping in useless gestures, grey ones: so it learnt violence, wars
Get in touch again, now I await for You, You come for me, for her and for everyone too: we are ghosts of what You would like we can be. We miss You. Come and light up all, please. We are waiting for dawn
These grey days, this my grey, this grey that enters us paint it, change otherwise useless passes, winter of thrills and beauty. Give us joy and bright colours
Some days ago a friend showed me her new work, about which I think I’ll must say something later, because in my opinion it’s her best art installation. However, I cannot agree with the specific meaning of her work, that she comes up positive, outlining a freedom as absence of ties, that is a freedom that does not exist. I am exactly sure of the opposite: love is relationship, link and tie with another and, above all, with Another. Withouth love any freedom cannot exist. So, thinking of me, thinking about why this current world is so strange and inhumane and confused, remembering the Dostoevskji Demons, I wrote this stuff.
(…) There’s no road in sight, so help me; What to do?… We’ve lost our way. It’s the demon that has got us And is leading us astray. (…)
from Aleksandr Puskin’s poem Demons
I see Demons in this my old world, looking for Beauty and Good to destroy, hunting faiths to corrupt into schemes useful to justify wars and rapes
I see Demons in people I meet on the roads, in the parks, where I go to find peace or to work or to be alone to free my mind toward skies
I see Demons into my odd mind. My thoughts fly as black bats in the night hidden, dark and they twist my weak soul leading me where I don’t want to be
I’m a Demon when watch at myself without memory of what really I’m: need of each thing, unable to love, bad and sinful. Oh God take me soon
October, 23th 2022
Using other words, other images and another language, here i shared samething really similar.
Some days ago, I was chatting with my friends River and Eucie about that poem by Patrizia Cavalli posted on Nemesys’ blog. It is interesting to note, in our chatting, the connection between Patrizia Cavalli poetry and my previous post theme.
Judy: This morning in a blog I read a poem by Patrizia Cavalli
Judy: She talks about her feeling to be alone, yet not free… alone. That poem ends so:
“This is what the body is for: you touch me or you don’t touch me, you hug me or walk away. The rest is for the insane.”
River: I always find such clarity and solidarity. When I read the words of another in poetry or prose and I relate I feel validated and not alone in my struggle and that is substantial.
Judy: That’s why we read
Eucie: It is!
Judy: Well… to read is similar to make love; it is as to touch another skin, another soul. That’s what I need: to see another one to be myself
Eucie: You know you are not alone or crazy
Judy: Yes. And I in that way know I am my need. To be human is to be needy and that’s much more evident for a woman.
Then, River shared that song by Massive Attack, Black milk. I did not know it and, to be honest, I do not like its music, but the lyric is beautiful and moving in its paradox (nevertheless, the title itself of the song is clearly a paradox):
You’re not my eater (…) Eat me (…) Love you for God
As to say: do not bother me, do not get me only because we are together. Do it because there’s Another, because there’s a sense out from us in doing it.
Black Milk Liz Fraser
You’re not my eater I’m not your food Love you for God Love you for the Mother
Eat me In the space Within my heart Love you for God Love you for the Mother
Mother fountain Or live or not at all
The most level Sunken chapel Love you for God Love you for the Mother