The wounded healer
Wounded healer lead me home,
Lend me the sound of your healing drum.
The beating heart, the blood of pain,
Set my soul on wings again….
This one is for healing, an enchantment to send deep healing to the dark winds and back again, for has not enchantment always involved chanting? And is not art healing?
I do not know, for I know so very little, but art has always ever been my healer, and we have need of healing this November, for NaNoWriMo and for mega wrimo as well. Turquoise is the color of the wounded healer, as a wise woman once told me, so I invoke that sacred color, the celestine of wind and waters, torn by darkness.
The wound is the resource, for it breaks the heart and channels empathy, boon of healers and the healed. Together we sing our chant of health.
Am reading my first steampunk novel right now, Perdido Station by China Miéville. It carries the same casual brutality of much contemporary art, especially recent movies. Don’t know what to think of the author yet. He strikes me as a not very nice man, though I’m probably wrong on that. Perhaps niceness is out of fashion, and slashing pain and gritty slime more the thing these days.
Miéville is a superb stylist, but what he styles is unknown to me before. I am used to writers I can relate to in a human way, but he seems beyond my ken, almost insectile, his words a rending of the wings of flesh into something chitinous and alien, something dark, like a butt tattoo.
Awwwk!
LWIII
Well, there is an Emma Bircham in his life and that is always a good sign, perhaps especially if someone looks like a skinhead. For women rule the world, no, they are the owners.
Not familiar with Emma Bircham, but if he has a woman in his life he can’t be all bad. Young people are so desensitized to violence that maybe I’m reading him wrong. I don’t know. As I continue the book it is starting to bore me. Thanks Ron!
LWlll
I’m going to shock you….
I like this post is all…made me smile is all
Nuff said
Truly, Less Is More
))))
Glad you liked it Truly, thanks!
@tomyhowe
Perdido Station: bloated vile mutant slimy scum turgid viscous poisoned bilious insectile viscid spewing excretion putrid chancreous feces
44 minutes ago from web
but in a good way
44 minutes ago from web
Actually the name of that book is Perdido Street Station. Sure makes me glad to be old, if those kind of thoughts are the ones running through our youth. Guess it was inevitable, but man it is very very weird. Thanks for the comment, Ron, even though it was only a couple of my tweets.