#193 Friday 11 March 2011

It's Friday night and Kaylia won't go to sleep. She's had the wonder stuff that's sposed to make her sleepy but all she wants to do is use her instructing power! Get up! Daddy out! It's hard to know whether to follow the order ..... so she learns the power of speech .... or whether to try and teach her that orders cannot always be followed.

I'm tired .... dispirited .... at the end of my tether.

I've been looking back at the start of this blog ... January 2010 .... since that time many people have become followers .... only four people have expressed interest in helping .... only one person has actually been able to give us help! This is not a reflection on the people who support us ... it's more a commentary of the difficulty experienced in actually finding a way to help.

Once again, I "take my hat off" to the wonderful people who have lived with us as Kaylia's au-pair. I don't think we could have survived without their help ... that is meant literally!

This poem is sort of how I'm feeling at present.

Oceans

I remember the people

who have wept tears of pain.

The beating of waves

on the oceans of sadness,

- sweeping over the world

- waves of tears washing on the shores of consciousness

why did it start?

how can it end?

Hands reach out ...

imploring,

beseeching.

Hope dies, they draw back ...... resigned ...... defeated

The wind sings its sad song of pain.

The trees bow their branches to join the wind

in its cry of anguish.

The hills stand ..... silent ........ watching ........

brooding over the oceans of sadness.

Like that grain of sand

which though warmed by the sun

presses the other sand beneath....

so we

turn our face to the sun

and forget

that past of pain

those voices crying

those hands that reach

How can it end?

when did it start?

Before time,

sadness brooded.

After time .........

echoes of pain will whisper.

© Ian Croft May 1995