Who R U?
I’ve been holed up here for quite some time battling some pretty serious health issues. I’ve determined that they aren’t going to improve any time soon so I may as well fight through the pain and get some entries posted. I can’t tell you how good it feels to have someone ask me when I’m going to post again. It amazes me that anyone wants to hear what I have to say. Thank you to those who keep checking back and continue to read.
I don’t know why but, the Caterpillar’s infamous question has been on my mind a lot lately. I’m not sure if I’ve ever known who I truly am and becoming a widow threw me further down that rabbit hole. The one thing I know is, I’m not Alice, but this world may well be Wonderland. What else could you call something so twisted and frightening?
I’ve been working on an entry that, after several nights of re-working, I still cannot post. So, for now, I’ll leave you with what comes to mind every time I ponder the Caterpillar’s question. I hope you enjoy. It’s one of my favorites.
I Am!
BY JOHN CLARE
I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest that I loved the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.