Blood gushes from the near dead deer,
The fury of her marrow spilt.
I see in your eyes
the pain and the fear
as you’re lying there, still.
Beneath her breastbone, a gentle throb growing fainter.
Split the world!
Blood burns crevices as rivers flush through,
rinsing away traces.
And innocents float freely to blue skies
catching glimpses of red they left behind.
Enraged ghosts howl out of the ground,
whirling and whining,
avenging deer blood.
April 7, 1983, Poem by D Pomeroy in another life
Art by D Pomeroy 2010
In a world seemingly on a precipice, I am reminded of the poem by John Donne. This meditation is genius in its description of human connectedness.
‘No Man is an Island’
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
Meditation XVII, 1623
“Truth” the word has many definitions. It is, therefore, difficult to argue. Truth is illusive. Finding it……
If truth is that which matches reality, then whose reality? Everything that is, is true. It is dependant upon who is making the assertion, upon the perspective; dependent upon whose brain is making the observation. Truth is subjective.
So never condemn a person who says, “I know this to be true”, and do not blindly take this assertion as your own.