Sunday 11th DECEMBER
Day 11
And the miraculous comes so close (Written in Russia in 1921)
“Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold,
Death’s great black wing scrapes the air,
Misery gnaws to the bone.
Why then do we not despair?
By day, from surrounding woods,
Cherries blow summer into town;
At night the deep transparent skies
Glitter with new galaxies.
And the miraculous comes so close
To the ruined, dirty houses—
Something not known to anyone at all,
But wild in our breast for centuries.”
-Anna Akhmatova (1921)
A young Russian poet writing this in 1921 in a country at war with itself. And yet she could write this hope . . .
When we use violence as an answer to violence, all we manage to do in the end is to become what we hate. “Actions initiated in anger,” Sylvia Boorstein wrote, “perpetuate suffering.”
I remember my beautiful Aunty Tess who would be 90 today. Since I was young we have shared our birthdays. And I miss her friendship and her wisdom very much.
And Master D arrived with his Dad to stay for a few days with us. His Dad has a funeral on Monday so we are having him. So far great fun looking for our frog, feeding Mr Kooky, counting the cockatoos
