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Monday, October 15, 2012

her voice sounded like cinders under a door.In her eyes was the dimness of the poor!The deep slant of compassion swelled into points at the corners where deep lines lay into their traces.
This homey placid cottage on Ring-Haddy Island off the coast of Ireland spread out like a pancaked spiders web.Sand, field, and rock as far as the eye could see.
She had known all about the ways of betrayal, and for years now the absence of a flowing temperament.
Hadn't it been said once that she had filled a heart with gladness and kindness.For this was all she felt she was worth.
Having,meant living to her even in her humblest moments she never in her wildest dreams or her humblest moments ever imagined or thought she would become poor.She had no strength nor mental settings for it.
day after day and for all the cycles of years she was healthily provided for.
She would never need to be a tavern brat like her mom.She was likes by many and most found her personality charming even charismatic at musical events.She adored music more than anything in life.yet there was a loud brashness in her voice and a jerky false assurance in her laughter and shared joyfulness.
The house, the pool the car all meant she was worthwhile.One could surmise that her order of things, her modesty,and love of life had a structure that focused around abundance.To be left penniless never occurred to her.
There had always been such happiness,order and loving for days weeks years and years,she had always been able to maintain a free and balanced way of life.
Now aging and with her family members sick she wondered how on earth she would make it through another day?
She wore a used nightdress,used slippers and shoes,ate packaged food,then she  felt the cold coming from the floor of the room she paid way to much for out of her disability cheque. One of the deserving poor she used to write small cheques for from time to time: charity dwellers they were.Insects of the earth, leches, and parasites of humanity.
Friends of years and years had written her off now a unworthy as they thought as she had.Lazy, insecure stupid and lost souls.They felt she had not tried hard enough,fast enough when you snooze you lose.
She found money through the system of her ancestors and voters gone by,and they left her to it.Some of them had never known their own worth so to be near her was threatening to their own shells they may topple out of. Scarcity never feels good to the rich.
She would at times slip from her bed now when the whole world was asleep here she watched the cobalt blue starlite nights so far away.This reminded her of the many nights gone into eternity of homey times in her childhood village when she would ride out like the wind for the woods and the hills deep in the snow on her skidoo.Then at the top of Caledonia mountain she would shut off the engine and breath in the deep, still, fresh, cold air to her nostrils,staring dreamlike up into the stars the night the silence the dark mandala of winter.

to be continued:

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