''Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile : ) to those who hate;
And, whatever sky's above me,
Here's a heart♥ for every fate.''
♥

WHO AM I...?
☼
''Luce che cade dagli occhi sui tramonti della mia terra su nuovi giorni...
Anche se dentro una lacrima, come un sole e una *stella.''

[The light falling from eyes over sunsets of my homeland on new days
Even if within a single teardrop...like the sun and a star*] for Julia, Jenna & Camilla...
☆

''NOBODY'' [by Emily Dickinson]

''I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.''

''To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.'' [e.e.cummings]


★Emotional Intelligence...that was honoured upon me recently...and I aim to grow right into that mould : ))

☼HOPE☼ is the only good God remaining among mankind;
The OTHERS have left and gone to Olympus.
TRUST, a mighty God has gone,
RESTRAINT has gone from men,
And the GRACES, my Friend, have abandoned the earth.
Men's judicial OATHS are no longer to be trusted,
Nor does anyone revere the immortal Gods;
the race of PIOUS men has perished and...
men no longer recognize the rules of CONDUCT or acts of PIETY.

[These observations do not apply to all people...and can be changed with a determined and good heart...

People scatter seeds of mistrust accidentally and also on purpose...the seeds are difficult to distinguish between those that will bear beauty and fruit until rooted and established in the earth or cracks in walls and pavements...

We need to learn to be wise gardeners...to protect this planet and all vulnerable souls in it...

There is a poem to follow these words...but a poem in progress...]

"Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga?" [What place is this, what region, what quarter of the world? Where am I?] - Seneca's Hercules Furens [The Mad Hercules], Act V, line 1138

''HERE & ELSEWHERE'' [By Raymond Federman]

I cannot write I cannot write
when I want to, when I need to.
I mean I cannot write
what must be written
what demands to be written.

Every morning I ask myself : why?
No good, nothing, nothing, nothing.
How long will this go on?
Everyday I wake up and around me
terror earthquake murder fire killing
the newspaper the radio the television
tanks famine death war corruption bombs.

Where am I, me, I mean?
And you? Where are you?
Torn away. Displaced. Angry.

It's not that I cannot write
oh yes I can write
anything I want
but it's this one thing
this one thing I cannot write
this thing that refuses
to let itself be written
to surface out of me.

The horror in the world
the human debacle.

Reading writing speaking
my life has been but that
a life of words
a pell mell babel of words
a life full of stories
but a life anyway.
I awake here in exile
It's because of the world
because of history
because of what goes
on in the world
that concerns us
frightens us
dejects us
saddens us

the moment I jump
out of bed there is
this horror in the world
and I cannot write it.

I cannot say which
is my country today
it constantly changes
it's always the country
that invades me
devastates me
that makes me angry

I remain caught
in this incapacity
to detach myself
from this .... this ...
arrachement [affliction].

My body seemingly here
but my mind elsewhere
full of sordid images

It's exhausting to be
where one is not
and not be where one is

While brushing my teeth
I hear the cracked voice in me
whisper: this is the day
the day of rapprochement
the day of frenetic work
and then....

Where was I last
where was I seen last
where will I be today?
Jerusalem?
Paris?
Berlin?
Kabul?
Auschwitz?

[Pause for thought]

"The Seagulls" by Enid Welsford

The Seagulls are screaming and crying;
The wild waves are tossing their spray;
And a vision is spread before me
Of ages long faded away.

I can hear the Vikings' fierce voices
Blend in with the angry waves' roar,
As, singing their warlike old sea songs,
They sail their ships from the shore.

And in fancy I seem to see them,
While the storm winds go shrieking by,
Fall into the arms of their mother,
Be clasped to her breast and die.

Then I hear a voice cry from Heaven,
Ringing loud o'er the roar of the sea;
"There is no room in God's Kingdom,
For men that have sinned like ye".

Then proudly spake the bold Vikings,
"The Sea is our only home;
Here let us lie and slumber
For ever beneath the foam".

"Nay", cried the great voice from Heaven,
"For ever the billows may roll
Over the human body,
But not o'er the human soul".

"Come forth from your loved mother ocean,
Awake then, awake from your sleep;
Your souls will I change into seabirds;
Ye shall live by the sounding deep".

"Your voices shall blend with the wild winds;
Ye shall float on the waves that roar;
Ye shall fly round the grey rocks screaming
And crying for evermore