Rosemary Nissen-Wade: Aussie poet and teacher of metaphysics – a personal view
My bestie nicknamed me SnakyPoet on her blog, and I liked it. (It began as
'the poet of the serpentine Northern Rivers' and became more and more abbreviated.)

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Bali Executions

One of those very rare mornings when I turned on the TV first thing, because reading that news on my iPad somehow wasn't adequate — even though I have expected it for many weeks.

Sometimes being a psychic has a downside.

I'm not perpetually 'on', and I don't go around automatically knowing stuff about people I encounter — but electronics, including TV, are good conductors of energy, and the case of Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran has received high coverage for a long time. 

I don't remember how many weeks ago I posted a message that it was now time to hold the two men in the light, but it must be a matter of months already. That was when I knew, suddenly and absolutely, that they would indeed be executed. But to say so then would have been wrong. I didn't want to put that energy of doom out there, and besides, I am not infallible.

Never would I have been happier to be wrong!

However, my certainty of doom never lifted, except for one brief moment of hope yesterday re the recent beginning of a legal process into corruption at the trial. But it was only a moment. 

Fortunately my little post on facebook was hardly needed; the two were surrounded by love and support in all these weeks, and were the focus of much positive energy from many who, like me, never met them personally but were inspired by their shining examples of transforming themselves under the most difficult conditions. 

And in their deaths, and the way they conducted themselves in the face of this prospect, they continue to inspire us all to do what we can to have the death penalty abolished everywhere. These lives were cut off cruelly, far too soon, but were surely not wasted.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Sunday Letters — Anzac Day edition

I came across a blogger who writes 'Friday Letters' to all sorts of addressees. I loved the idea and decided to steal it — but my Fridays are for haiku, so I've allocated Sunday for the letters.

Dear Anzac Day,

You were yesterday, and this is the closest Sunday.

I used to despise you, long, long ago, when I was a fiery young woman with fixed ideas. I thought you glorified war. Now that I am much older, I still dislike the idea of war but I have softened towards you, Anzac Day, because I know now that courage and self-sacrifice deserve respect. I even think that some wars, like the Allies' opposition to Nazi Germany, back when you began, are necessary. Injustice and tyranny must be resisted.

Dear Anzac Day, I pray you will always keep your true spirit, of not forgetting the brave young men who died in their thousands, or were maimed or psychologically scarred. You began in a spirit of gratitude. And I am grateful not to have lived my life under the dictatorship of conquerors.

Then I immediately think that this is just what indigenous Australians have been doing ever since Europeans settled here. It is too late to send us all back where we came from, but I pray we may right what injustices and tyrannies we can.

I read that some indigenous citizens want their own war against our invasion recognised in the Anzac Day marches and celebrations. I say, why not? It was a war just as valid or even more so. I'll keep in touch over my remaining years, Anzac Day, hoping to see you become more inclusive, and if I can help that along in any way, I will.

Dear tree across the road,

I love to sit on my tiny front verandah and watch you swaying in the breeze. I should sit out here more often and watch. You are beautiful and soothing, and I am blessed to live here and have the time and opportunity.

I get caught up with activities which seem more important. But this is my life, and I love to look at trees. What could be more important than spending my life doing things I love? Particularly as there is little enough left of my life. Even if I last to 100, I have still lived most of my life already.

Some of the other things I do ARE important, and many of them I also love — but, tree across the road, I can surely find time for you too, more often.

Dear life of mine,

I am enjoying you. Even despite griefs and problems, and a history that includes pain and trouble, overall I have enjoyed you and I still am. Even in spite of being sick at present, I still enjoy you. I don't enjoy the sickness, but that is only one aspect of you, my life.

I am glad and grateful that I have you — that I was given the great gift of having you; that I came into being, and that my circumstances have been comparatively blessed.