BLOODY AWFUL

Today I feel bloody awful. I woke up feeling like I should go back to sleep. Usually when I wake I’m raring to go, but not this morning.

I don’t know if it’s been working out in the heat (except Sunday, I kinda sheltered in place) as we’ve been having near 100 days, or the herbicide and pesticide I’ve been laying down, the long hours, the parties we had this weekend with the family, something I ate (we had a lotta party and junk food, pizza, pie, chips, nachos, etc.), or my daughter’s new boyfriend staying over at the house until about 2:00 AM but I rose feeling terrible.

Nauseous, kinda dizzy, headache, lack of energy, stiff, etc. Most days I get up and after I work out the stiffness from my prior injuries and broken bones then I’m on to whatever I need to do. Takes me about half an hour or so to warm up and loosen up but after that I’m good and usually have more energy than a lotta guys half my age. But again, not today…

What I want to do is drink about a gallon of water and go straight back to bed, but I gotta lot to do today including laying dirt, clearing land, making submissions, working on my novel and script, and setting up my new weight bench. If I can get to everything. And at this point I doubt it.

But I may have to nap some anyway. After my mid-morning snack. If that doesn’t help me feel better then I may have to go back to bed.

Nevertheless I hope you have a much better days folks.

THE KNIGHT OF AGONY AND THE WITCH OF WOE

THE KNIGHT OF AGONY AND THE WITCH OF WOE

 

 

KNIGHT OF AGONY: “Strut of all conspiring women and bald intemperate Witch of thy sex, in these darkest charms you drive me on, and less now than my naked self, I am nonetheless repletely covered in the enchantments of your moist and damning sorcery.”

 

GREAT WITCH OF WOE: “Knight of anguished men, would you my powers any less than to wring from the sleeping Earth of night, and from thy inmost longing lower parts, those burning fires which wake the dead and melt away all obstacled defense?”

 

KNIGHT OF AGONY: “Fie! Acquiteth thou thy e’er contingent ends and thereby make rich embodiment of my piercing hot desire, that all conspire, as I envision, and portend…”

 

WITCH OF WOE: “So shall it be! And with a rueful laugh I grant thee all you hide and seek, though seek you more, and hide you naught. Yet in the attainment of the barren gap between the grasp of man and the groan of ghosts you may still discover deep in me far blacker things in motion, and far more potent sorceries. Now, does this bargain still allure, or have you acted premature?”

 

KNIGHT OF AGONY: “It still suffices, and allures. Now come to me, immortal hell and all, and in thy keen and cold embrace I shall endure…. Thus shall I endure.”

 

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This morning I arose about 5:30. Immediately the above lines came to my mind, though I have since edited and improved them. I do not know why these lines came to me, but that is a common practice with me, to arise from sleep or a dream with a poem, a song, a story, or an invention in my thoughts.

So it was this morning with the Knight of Agony and the Witch of Woe.

It is part of a piece I intend to make into a short, one act play. Probably for Halloween.

While looking for an illustration or graphic to use with the post I stumbled upon illustration for TH White’s The Witch in the Wood and the Ill-Made Knight. That was not an inspiration for this piece, but when I saw the illustration I remembered the work which I read long, long ago, and found it apropos.

THE WOUND THAT HEALS

THE WOUND THAT HEALS

The Wound that heals to help secure
Our Lives Eternal to endure
Was writ in Blood and sweat and toil
Then buried in the fruitful soil
That God had plowed in hearts of men
The day he died to live again

His Tomb a Rock, a mountain-top
A different world from which to spot
A brilliant Kingdom, richly cast
Full of souls and fit to last
Beyond the dark of night and death
Into the morn of what is blest
About the God who would be Man, and
Men made new by God’s Great Plan
To heal them true and make them fast
With his own Wounds, so deep, so vast;

A nail, a scourge, a crown of thorns
A cross, a spear, and sin engorged
Upon the Wound that heals us all
Upon the Man who stands and calls
To us upon this Easter Morn,

“Come my Friends, and Be Reborn!

For my Wounds were made for Thee
I give them all, I give them free
And if you’ll touch them to your Heart
Then you and God shall n’er depart –

For the constant Blood my Wounds ensue
Shall Live in God, and God in you…”

 

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I had been thinking lately about the Myth of the Wound that can only be healed by the Weapon that made the wound. These thoughts made me realize, just a few days ago, that Jesus had rewritten that Myth, that the Wounds of Christ, the wounds Christs suffered via the acts of men are the only ones that can truly heal man of what most wounds him.

In other words the Wounds of Christ  inflicted by man are the very Wounds that Heal man, and remake him into the Kind of Man he was always meant to truly be.

I guess that had lain on me for the past few days for this morning I woke with this poem running through my head. So I sketched it out on the notepad beside my bed and then came downstairs and wrote it out in full on my office computer and now I post it here.

So this is my poem for this Easter and in Honor of the Wound that Heals.