http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle That's the world from my perspective - with a free weblog from blogigo. en henryliddle henryliddle Mon, 05 Sep 2005 02:43:14 +0200 daily 1 They say my Grandmother is dying But I just don't see it She looks sick, sicker than I've ever seen her But nothing changes.   The home called my dad and my uncle And said to come now Your mother won't last the night That was three days ago.   I don't know a world without her in it For half a century of my life She has lived here in it Almost a century for her.   I hate the passing of time I hate that people grow older and die I hate that everything changes And I hate myself for not being able to        Just accept these things.   Dear Grandmother, I remember you when we both were much younger. Mon, 05 Sep 2005 02:43:14 +0200 http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle/My-Grandmother/3/ http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle/My-Grandmother/3/   There is nothing in the world Aside from family and dear people That can give you such an ennervating pause As a single flower. When you plant it, when you dig the earth to Make its bed You touch something that is as beautifully simple As you will ever reach. Today when you strain against the world At some point stop and look At that flower over there.   I saw a woman on the TV tonight who rode out the hurricaine on a tree Limb.  She said she will live a life of greater faith from now on because She prayed and she lived.  My problem is this:  Can't we assume that the People who lost their lives in fear and pain in that storm were also Praying for safety and release from the terrible waters?  If you believe One person was saved by God, don't you have to believe that others who Did not survive were killed by God? Thanks for Reading. Wed, 31 Aug 2005 03:53:09 +0200 http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle/The-Flower/2/ http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle/The-Flower/2/   This is the Claytonian Winter Which is long and cold And makes your soul weak and old And will kill you with six whole months Of grey and weary skies. Sometimes the sky is the same color As the water, as the snow on the ground Even as the people around Cold and grey like a battleship.   But in the grey there is also promise That the sun will return from the south That the ground will soften under your feet again That one single wild flower will come and test the air And return for all its kin down there.   I will keep moving and fight the Winter whenever It raises its head; Keep moving like a shark that lives on light and cool Breeze instead of the seal-surfer dead. This page is part of my swim to the surface, my dig through the snow to the warm light above.  I will try to write on it everyday and hopefully you may see it and comment.  This is for me, but for all of you too, for everyone who... Mon, 29 Aug 2005 20:27:03 +0200 http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle/Hello/1/ http://www.blogigo.co.uk/henryliddle/Hello/1/