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Archive for the ‘Death’ Category

 

#TheMidnightCaller

Death comes calling

 

The Midnight Caller

∼ 

Twas death himself I’m sure

Waiting silently outside my door

Though no door I’ve ever seen

Could keep him away once lured.

∼ 

He held out his hand

Pale and slim

Yet warm and strong

Inviting

“Take my hand and walk with me

You know that’s what you want it to be

No more pain and strife

No hurt or tears

Not even one more for this sharp life”.

∼ 

But as ever before my answer came

To these beguiling words from Death

“Even for the heartsore

I cannot follow you yet.

My time is not right now

There are others her in this life

Who still need me on this side

They may not know just why or how

But deep inside I know this.

I cannot leave this life

Nor desert them in this way”.

∼ 

This life is heavy

My heart bowed down

No answers can be found

In despair I stand and pray for answers

My belief: that they can be found

∼ 

I sensed a smile play around his mouth

A sparkle in dark eyes

“I see you have not yet given up the fight

So, one more I must bid you, Goodnight

Remember though, I am always here

Waiting for your call

When midnight chimes awaken you

Remember, I wait for you too.”

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2014

 ∼

Image courtesy: michellemonique-deviantart-com

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#TheRevenge

                                                                                 

She found them lying broken

Beyond the smoking remains

Broken by deaths embrace

Father, brother, their killers to trace

Mother to save, offering solace

She buried them swiftly

A cairn a small solace.

From the ashes dipped

Fingers to face

She painted dark lace

From when came the knowing

She knew not nor cared

Yet deep in her heart

Knowledge set

Her feet on the path

To follow.

Through forest unknown

She followed their trail

Twig, leaf, hoof print

Never to fail

Finally a light

Shinning fitfully in the night.

 ≈

A veil came down

Clouding her mind

Narrowing her senses anew

Wood smoke and whiskey

Blood and…..more.

Tied to a tree she found her

Broken and abused

Her knife severed her bonds

A cloak to cover her pain

Slipping away

Foes to be slain.

The curtain fell once more

Blood haze before her eyes

Softly through the trees she melted

In silence Death moved unseen

No sound from her passing

Claiming due vengeance

One by one

Til there were none.

Back to the only home they knew

To build a life anew

Time for wounds to heal

Memories to seal

Vengeance claimed, no appeal.

In this time

We may never see it

Never have to believe it

Not for us to keep score

No evil goes unnoticed

No evil goes unpunished

Not for you, nor I to judge.

                                                                                  ≈

 

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2014

© Executive Sorceress, 2014

 

 

Image courtesy of:driftingdruid.tumblr.com

 

 

 

 

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#OldTimesGone

image from anguishedrepose.com

 

 

There are times aplenty when I was in doubt

Hardly a penny to my name nor food in my mouth

Nowhere to turn and no-one to ask

Help and understanding seemed long past

There were no tears left to fall

They had long since soaked into the soil

With nary a person to see nor care

Is it any wonder I now dare

To say the things I need to say

Whatever happens come what may

I no longer fear the heavy hand

Not the baton nor manacle laid on like a band

There is nothing left inside to hurt

All feeling left buried in the dirt

Like yesterday’s news or an old shirt

No-one to call me a late night flirt.

I walk the city streets alone

A shadow passing through a lighted cone

Never seen nor heard

Like yonder lovely sweet bird

The past is long since gone

Never knowing just what went wrong

Only knowing the stories and endless lies

Gathered over the corpse like a mountain of flies

Drawing every morsel from my body

Left to rot like a forgotten toddy

No more use since I’ve been bled dry

Been long gone by and by

Desiccated and gone

The only thing left an old rubber thong

Hard to see where I used to be

There’s a shadow there near yonder tree

Wearing a uniform, laughing and carefree

Who is that person standing there

So proud and tall

Not likely to fall

Only the person I used to be

Before I grew up and lost my carefree

Hollow eyed and hopeless

Stolen before its time

Like a counterfeit chime

All out of lime.

 

© Susan Jamieson 2014

 

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beautiful song… something for everyone to think about.

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A change of pace

My Immortal, a Gregorian Chant

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#Betrayal

image from http://www.deviantart.com                          Howling for the soul sister to pass

Betrayal

The time drifted by slowly

There was nothing left

No way to measure the passage of time

Nothing but the slow drip, drip, drip

She let her head roll back

Resting lightly against the window frame

Outside she could see the moon

A blood moon, portent of bad tidings

The trees outside wailed their mournful sounds

And somewhere a wolf howled loudly

Joined quickly by the rest of the pack

Strange, but she had seen no wolves here

Not since she came so long ago

But it wasn’t that long surely

No, it only felt that way

But fitting somehow that they came now

Almost as if they could hear her coming

Drip, drip, drip -The only sound inside

The howling of the wolves outside

And an eerie feeling creeping over all

She was starting to feel cold

The mist curled from her open mouth

She should have brought a blanket

Made things much easier in the end

The cold climbed upwards

Through her arms and legs

Up from the cold floor, cold as the grave

Drip, drip, drip, the continuing sound

Fainter now the wolves were drawing nearer

Their howling more frenetic than ever

The moon climbed higher so she raised her head

Strange how heavy her head now felt

Drip, drip, drip, a cold wetness intruded on her reverie

The howling wolves must have been outside the window

Their howls so loud in her head now

As the icy cold reached her heart

She gave one slow sigh

The light dimming in her eyes

She could no longer see the moon

No longer hear the slowing drip, drip, drip

The only sound

The howling of the wolves

The dripping stopped,

The moon still rose

The wolves howled once more

A cry of pain and anguish

For a soul lost.

Alone in death

As she had been in life

Alone.

#Betrayal

image from http://www.smscs.com The pack gathers to welcome one home

Blessings  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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#The Withering

image from lg-design-deviantart-com

The Withering

“Through dangers untold ….and

Hardships unnumbered”……

A faint smile

The merest lifting of each corner

Of her mouth

Fleeting

Already gone

Hidden

Beneath the shadows

Looming in her eyes

Dark pits of despair

Pushing her feet onward

Pulling her soul apart

Through the lies uncovered

And the heartbreak unbearable

The final destruction

Rending of her true self

Feelings

Emotions

Expressions

Unacceptable

Clinical discourse only

Measured in droplets of blood

Darkest heart blood

Turned in wood

Hidden beneath

Night’s cloak

And cloud

©  Susan Jamieson 2014

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
From an Irish headstone”    Richard Puz

 

.

Traveling to Mum’s house that night felt surreal. I felt as though I was wandering through my own personal nightmare. I drove along and had no real recollection of where I was going or what I was doing, it felt as though I was on auto pilot. What would have happened if anything unexpected occurred I have no idea. I suppose I should thank my angels and Dad that it didn’t. I could sense him from time to time but I knew he would be with Mum.

Going through the front door was indescribable. Yet another part of the nightmare, never ending. There was this horrible feeling of disconnect. Nothing felt real. I felt like an interloper and I seriously wanted to leave. For the first time I can remember I felt lost, adrift on some strange ocean with no bearings to guide me. Yet I was expected to be the same person I had always been, capable, competent, organised – for everyone else. It felt as though any feelings I had didn’t exist for anyone else. Their tears poured but I felt I couldn’t, or shouldn’t. When I was told I was a co executor of Mum’s estate I cringed inside. The other was my brother.

Every ‘rule’ of executor ship was flouted and trying to say anything I was over ruled on the pretext that he was so upset because Mum had passed away. Oh – wasn’t she my mother too? I was over ruled and out voted. Meetings held without me regarding Mums prized possessions (sentimental), before her hospitalisation had seen me ‘disenfranchised’. My children were simply excluded, and I had the feeling it was because they were the only grandchildren. I was being torn apart piecemeal, no one to turn to and I was still supposed to take control of the situation, even being accused of being an “Ice Maiden”, without feelings, because they didn’t see me cry. I had a dam inside and the tears couldn’t be allowed to get past it. I didn’t want them to see it either.

image from http://www.theguardian.com     Such a vital piece of paper

The more I learned about how the Will had come to be drawn up, its contents and the meetings which took place without me, the more I felt cut off from my family. I was lost in the darkness and there was no way out.  Once the funeral was over, the wrangling with finalising the estate began. Months of arrangements and meetings, and more and more blackouts as I traveled to ‘Mum’s’ house started to widen the cracks. When I was finally told, after I organised the estate tax return, that it would be another 12 months until it could be finalised I reached “the point of no return”.  Denied Mum’s mementos, denied access to the house proper to see her things, despite everything I had tried to do and I had reached the time to say, “Enough!”

I needed time. I needed space. I needed to find out who I was again. I had been mother, daughter, sister, wife for so long that I was unsure who I was. I booked a 12 week trip to the Middle East and Switzerland, had a long talk with my children and left to find myself. My children understood and were old enough and cared enough to wish me well, however. I didn’t leave a happy camp behind. I don’t believe my brothers really understood how fragile I had become.  I tidied up everything with the solicitor so nothing would need attending to in my absence and left.

Perhaps it was prophetic that I went to the airport alone and had no one to see me off. My very first overseas trip, the only trip I had ever taken alone in my life and there was no one there to say goodbye. As the plane rose into the air I felt an enormous weight suddenly detach from me and I felt lighter than I had for so long. I had a long way to go but I had made a start.

image from http://www.travelhouseuk.co.uk           Fly away little bird.

There was a strange feeling as I walked into the Singapore airlines lounge, which felt something like, “So this is what ‘they’ were talking about. There was a feeling of freedom, of being looked after, and after the previous couple of decades it was almost unbelievable. The people there were so friendly and helpful, and despite the fact that it was their job, they made me feel as though I was special, something truly unusual for me.

The long haul trip to Singapore tested out my back despite being in Business class, a luxury I had decided on simply because of the injuries to my back. Unfortunately we arrived at 11pm so apart from a walk, a very long walk to the Singapore airlines lounge there were very few shops open.  Yet the two hour wait for my connecting flight to Athens was still full of surprises.  I had rarely seen so much food available outside a restaurant and staff who were only too happy to help. The shower facilities were a blessing and it felt really good to refresh myself after sitting on the plane for so long.

image from http://www.airreview.com             Business Lounge in Singapore

Back on board again it seemed only a short time before we were landing in Athens. I had been too excited to sleep much so the on-board films were a good distraction. I was collected at the airport – Yes, I had someone standing in arrivals with my name on a piece of cardboard! Whisked through the airport, the Greeter insisted on handling my entire luggage (I over packed) and I was in a taxi and speeding into Athens.

The driver, whose name I never did get, zipped in and out of traffic like a bee hopping from flower to flower. The nonstop information was brilliant, but I could only take part of it in. The sights and sounds were amazing. Once we reached Athens the traffic was phenomenal. So many vehicles all going flat out, horns honking, drivers waving their arms at each other and the roads – they seemed so small! It was a thrill a minute.

View of the Acropolis from outside the hotel

View of the Acropolis from outside the hotel

The hotel was an oasis of peace and calm from the bustle outside and once I was in my beautiful suite I suddenly felt exhausted. Tired or not I had to explore since I was only there for a couple of days on the way to Israel, my ‘final’ destination. I’m sure the Major D was surprised when I hurried through the doors so soon, asking for directions. I walked for hours before finally stumbling back to the hotel where I declared it exhaustion treat time and ordered room service.

One beautiful hot bath later my meal arrived and I settled down to find an English speaking news channel so I could find out if the Middle East was still peaceful.  The lure of the soft and gigantic bed was too much and I slept until breakfast the next morning.  A full breakfast was on offer but I didn’t want to waste time so off I went sightseeing and gathering all the brochures I could for my return trip.

image from news.gtp.gr     Athens Airport

 Picked up bright and early the next morning, (They even got the staff up early so I could have breakfast before I left) and I was whisked out to catch the El Al Plane into Israel. That was where the fun really began.

Next week – Learning to breathe again

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

Recollections of that Christmas are strange, some vague and others thrown into stark relief. At times I felt alone in a darkness so profound I wondered if I would ever emerge again. I can remember desperately wanting to make it as happy and carefree as possible, easy and light, a remembrance of all the beautiful Christmas’ we had spent together. Above all it had to be as far removed from the reality of the situation as possible.  Despite the strain in Mum’s face, she was happy. Her family were around her and the love was overflowing. It was all I could have asked for. I was grateful my prayers were answered.

As though Christmas had never occurred it was back to ‘normal’ as soon as the New Year came around.  Hubby had spent plenty of time fuming over my response and as a result I wasn’t too surprised when, early in the new year, he advised me he wasn’t interested in trying to make a go of things, he wanted a divorce. It was a bad move on his part. I had a strong feeling that I should move and quickly. I haven’t felt such an urging before so I did exactly as he asked. As soon as the courts opened for business in the new year I went in, filled out the paperwork and less than three months later it was all over. He got his divorce finalised (the decree nisi) on his birthday. It wasn’t planned that way by me, but I have a feeling Spirit, and of course Dad had a lot to do with the speed of things. I had more important things on my mind. The darkness was drawing in. I also decided to change my name – I needed to sever the ties to him completely.

In early March Mum was rushed back into hospital and we, at least I, had been told that she wouldn’t be going home again. She hated the hospital and couldn’t rest. I was called earlier each day because she was calling for me, so I was there from 5am or earlier until 7pm when my brothers arrived for their hour-long visit! All day I made sure she received her morphine shots to ease the pain.  When they wore off during the night she was too ‘out of it’ to ask for more. My brothers thought she was doing okay because they only saw her after a day with regular pain shots. She was alert and pain free for their short visit. They refused to accept how dire the situation was. Several falls from bed and very nasty injuries and the hospital talked hospice. Mum was terrified since, even in her muddled state, she was aware what it meant. She wouldn’t be going home. It was prophetic that she had always said she would die in a hospital and that had made her more concerned about hospital visits during her life.

image from blog.iloveqatar.net

I was taking some enormous risks. I wasn’t sleeping, hardly eating and began having strange ‘black outs’ as I was driving to the hospital. At 120km/hr it was scary, and yes I was exceeding the speed limit.  They had begun when she was at home but I wasn’t going to say anything. She needed me with her. I was the one who bathed her and changed her clothes, helped her into and out of bed. I held her hand and prayed as I sent Reiki into her frail body. I think by then I had stopped thinking about anything else. I had to be there.

The day I was informed she was being transferred to the hospice was horrendous. I had been there again since 4am after she had fallen from bed and had seriously hurt her arm. It was heart wrenching to see the nurses try to dress the wounds, finally admitting when they couldn’t remove the dressings that it didn’t matter if they were changed.  My universe was collapsing.

The day was a nightmare.  The ambulance transfer was a trip from hell. Once we reached the hospice I helped get Mum changed and into her new bed. She curled up and “went to sleep.” I continued to give her Reiki until my brothers began to arrive.  They arrived around 7pm. After a half an hour they decided to leave since Mum was obviously “asleep”. My gut told me to stay. My car was back at the other hospital. Despite knowing I shouldn’t leave I allowed myself to be persuaded to go to my car and go home. Something inside screamed at me to stay, but out numbered and feeling cornered I felt I had no choice. I was so wrong and I can never forget that.

I debated, for the longest time, about going back to her, but I hadn’t seen my children and I was feeling drained. I arrived home as the phone began ringing. My mother had passed away ten minutes after I left her. I don’t remember the drive back, only coming back to myself when I arrived at the hospice as saw my brother there. I was angry. He had arrived first and had decided to sign all the paperwork. He didn’t want to stay at all. He didn’t want me to stay either, but he did want me to go back to Mum’s house with him  (where he was living) to talk about what ‘we’ had to do. A new nightmare was about to begin, one which would threaten to drown me.

image from bleeding_eye_by_flauschvampire91

image from bleeding_eye_by_flauschvampire91

That walk through Mum’s front door felt like a knife wrenching through my heart. Inside my head a scream reverberated. I wanted out! I wanted a little space to think! I needed to find something to hold onto! I was adrift in uncharted waters and I was drowning already. Somehow, some way, I had to find how to keep going and stay sane. I felt I was faced with a stacked deck, just how much that was true was to come to light soon enough.

.

Next week – A New Nightmare Begins.

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from images.yourdictionary.com –

“Most people want to be circled by safety, not by the unexpected. The unexpected can take you out. But the unexpected can also take you over and change your life. Put a heart in your body where a stone used to be.”
― Ron Hall

Sheep, placid, easy-going and yet they can be as dumb as a fence post if you want them to go somewhere.  A friend once referred to a group of people who didn’t have an individual thought for themselves as “sheeple”. He was referring the “follow me anywhere as long as one of you are going somewhere attitude”.  Not very generous, but unfortunately it can apply to people who apparently are no longer thinking for themselves.

I’m sure you’ve seen the group mentality somewhere. If you are trying to give a seminar to a group like this it’s a long hard day’s work. If you are fortunate it will only be one day’s work. Believe me, the last thing you want to think about if you have a group like this is that you have th same group to face in the morning. Ask a farmer, I’m sure they have lots of tales to tell.

Yet that is not my sorry tale.  I wish it were.

image from sheronmerinexcerpts.wordpress.com

Many years ago when I was working as a uniformed police officer, I had worked a double shift.  In fact that is more than an understatement.  Being one of the very few police women at the time willing to work all those unpleasant late shifts, and wanting to gain experience from what occurs during those shifts, I found myself frequently being recalled back to work.

I didn’t mind, I enjoyed my work, as strange as it may sound to some. I felt I was doing some good to the community by trying to protect them from the undesirable element who felt free to relieve them of property, life or limb.  It sounds noble, but at the time it was simply a truth, for me at least. So being called back to work after barely an hours sleep was worth the discomfort.

Out of the previous two and a half days, that is three normal evening shifts which had run into overtime and being called in both nights, I had barely had four hours sleep. That would have been generous. It is very hard to unwind after a busy shift and even more so when you are working a lot of extra hours.

So in the wee hours of a Sunday morning in mid winter, I was wending my weary way back home along the back roads. Even in Queensland, mid winter and close to several creeks, it can be quite chilly and fog was swirling quite thickly in places. The heat caught by the bitumen roads simply increased the fog. I had chosen the back roads for the simple reason that it was a shorter route than the main road.

It was blissfully quiet, just the purring of my little Volkswagen as it hummed along the dark road. I was already looking forward to a hot drink and a few hours sleep.  Suddenly there was a “bump-bump” as my car went over something in the road. Stopping I couldn’t see anything, the fog was swirling in my path behind me. Carefully pulling into the side of the road I got out with my torch and walked back along the road.

A black sheep, looks beautiful doesn’t it? Unfortunately not when it is in the middle of an unlit road with fog swirling around you.  Dead as a doornail! Did I check for signs of life – well, it wasn’t moving and didn’t rouse when I approached it. Kiss of life – I don’t think so! For the life of me I couldn’t think why there would be a sheep in this particular area – it wasn’t a farm area after all, it was, if anything, semi industrial. There just happened to be a short stretch of roadway with a few houses along it.

I felt awful. I felt like  a murderer. Okay, perhaps not that bad but I was sick that I had run over this poor sheep. There was a house nearby which had a few windows showing lights in them.  So, gathering my courage and embarrassment I walked over and knocked at the door.  The conversation was short.

Me, “Umm, do you happen to own a black sheep by any chance.”

Middle aged man, “Oh yeah, Blackie, have you seen him?”

Me, ” Well, yes, it appears I may have run over him on the road.”

Man, ” I see, well, not your fault. He’s got out again and loves sleeping on the road at night. It’s warm you see. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

Me, “Oh, I’m so sorry, what do you want me to do?”

Man, ” Don’t worry about it, I’ll see to it before the kids get up. You just on your way home then?”

Me,”  Yes, been a long night.”

Man, “Well, don’t worry, off you go, can’t be expected to see a black sheep on a black road now can  you?  Cheerio.”

With the door closed in my face, (and I was wearing my uniform), I was at a loss as to what I should do next. Should I move the sheep? Should I fill in a report? (Shudder).  The door reopened and the conversationalist appeared with a large bag.  “Oh, still here? Not to worry, I’m moving Blackie now. Run along then.”

The sun was beginning to make its weak appearance. I was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. Walking back to my car I was wondering if it would start. I mean it’s only a Volkswagen, not some heavy-duty car. How would I explain to a tow truck that I had killed a sheep and needed towing?  Fortunately my little car started straight away and I went home. I wont say sleep came easily and I was very circumspect whenever I drove down dark streets thereafter.

Not my finest hour.

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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