the one and only truly amazing katster (katster) wrote,
the one and only truly amazing katster
katster

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o/~ my words trickle down, like a wound/ That I have no intention to heal o/~

Blessed
Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit.
Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.

O Lord, why have you forsaken me?

I got no place to go,
I've walked around SoHo for the last night or so.
Ah, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Blessed is the land and the kingdom.
Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to.
Blessed are the meth drinkers, pot sellers, illusion dwellers.

O Lord, Why have you forsaken me?

My words trickle down, like a wound
That I have no intention to heal.

Blessed are the stained glass, window pane glass.
Blessed is the church service makes me nervous
Blessed are the penny rookers, cheap hookers, groovy lookers.

O Lord, Why have you forsaken me?

I have tended my own garden far too long

this song is resonating with me tonight. Maybe it's the sheer weight of everything going on. Maybe it's simply just not feeling well, which I'm not. Too much chaos, too much of everything, and I've been trying to run on less sleep than I need.

Mom's been due to go back in the hospital real soon now. She goes in for her bone marrow biopsy today. Keep sending the good wishes our way, we think we're getting somewhere, but cancer is nasty about taking hopes like that and throwing 'em back in your face.

I'm trying, goddamnit, to be as good of a human as I can be...but I'm not sure if I can. Why I have I been forsaken? Why am I trying to hold my tounge, when lashing seems so attractive? Why am I attempting to spare other people from being hurt more than is necesary? Why am I such a weak-willed pansy? Why is it just me that does stupid things?

And that was the song for me. All these people who have done questionable things, possibly evil things...why are they blessed?

And why aren't I?

***

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

--Thomas Stearns Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"

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