White Sun

The sky was  full of shades of white this afternoon with the whiteness of the sun.  The white sun always reminds me of this poem by one of my favourite poets.  Whiteness like this always makes me think of deep emotional pain which drains the soul leaving emptiness.  My emotions are very close to the surface and pain is coming from all sorts of different areas and surprises me in its intensity.  And then that is followed by emptiness.  I don't want to bore you all with the fall out from the Trouble Young Man's Activities, but I do feel the need to write about them in journal form.  What should I have said to my Dad, TYM's grandfather, when he wants to keep the headline article from the local paper so that when the young man comes out of prison he can be shown it so he can see exactly what he did.  "Because he needs to understand what he has done."  What do I say to Mom every time she asks me if she can visit the young man in prison and ask me to explain why he is there when he has such a lovely smile.  And why is he on the front page of the newspaper?  And so it goes on, with my sister, her ex husband, my big nephew, all in their own little bits of confusion and strained love.

I had a letter from the TYM today.  Written on prison paper.  The only letter I have ever had from him.  I suspect the only letter he has ever written.  Asking for help that I can't give.  Can't?  Won't?  Well.

You'll all be stopping reading my Blips soon!  Gosh!  I will try to focus on other things a little more....  I need to do that.  I know.  Hard times.

Neutral Tones
Related Poem Content Details
BY THOMAS HARDY
We stood by a pond that winter day, 

And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, 

And a few leaves lay on the starving sod; 

– They had fallen from an ash, and were gray. 



Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove 

Over tedious riddles of years ago; 

And some words played between us to and fro 

On which lost the more by our love. 



The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing 

Alive enough to have strength to die; 

And a grin of bitterness swept thereby 

Like an ominous bird a-wing…. 



Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, 

And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me 

Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree, 

And a pond edged with grayish leaves.