tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13609842.post698089940050191630..comments2023-10-30T09:26:32.732+00:00Comments on Now's the time: discards, thankyou, the funeralAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06972049290586377462noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13609842.post-9980404097452959302014-01-17T07:16:02.386+00:002014-01-17T07:16:02.386+00:00Not that there is any justification, but you are r...Not that there is any justification, but you are right to doubt what you have written here. You are temporarily, perhaps for some time to come, a different person and there are thus two types of truth: the immediate and the reflective. In the case of my mother I eventually wrote verse about being told she had died (I was in the USA at the time). For years I had distrusted the process, thought verse and verse-writing were artifical matters and therefore certain to betray my feelings. It was only when I recognised there's an "accidental" element in verse which might well reveal some other, unexpected layer of reality that I realised it was worth trying. And so it happened. In my case it was the bond I achieved with my youngest brother who made the transatlantic call and, when I picked up the phone, found passing on the news so debilitating that he tried to escape it by speaking casually. That indirectly told me much more about his loss than any prepared words and added extra meaning to the word "brother". And verse finally allowed me to render that odd yet profound moment. For you such an experience lies way ahead but I hope the opportunity occurs. Otherwise it's soreness and numbness both of which have their own values. Roderick Robinsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.com