THE FOX IN THE GARDEN

Crash of light
Shatter night
Pausing paw
Quiver nose decides
Slanting glance
Flounce disdain
Tail of flame derides

MC

ONE WING

dark-swift

flock of swallows

razoring towards the dawn

shattered angel ascending 

yearning ecstasy

before light-fall

MC

SCARLET STRIFE

LIGHTING THE FIRE

THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER - Watercolours, ink and coloured pencils

If there is even one other fool in the world who believes in trust, then there is the proof that there is a foolish God who created them...

from Conversations with Ivan Shapiro

OH LET US LOOSE THE BLOODY HARE OF WAR

OH LET US LOOSE THE BLOODY HARE OF WAR

War-drunk Boudicca
Released a Hare
From under her cloak,
Set it free to watch it flee
Before her bloody chariots.

The idiot Hounds slavered,
And gave chase
The Gods favoured
The moment and the reaping
Of souls was great.

And yet I wonder,
Did the Hare know what it was?

When it screamed-
A streak of lean
And desperate meat
Before the avid jaws
Of the Dogs of War-
Did it see what it was?

Or did it fancy itself
Lord of ferocity
Master of atrocity
Leader of the Pack?

Did it see
Its own escape-velocity
As killing-desire?
Did it believe itself
Admired?

Was the flea-bitten,
Scrofulous Eater-of-the-Dead
Deceived into believing
It was a Warrior instead?

After the battle
It is Victory Day.
Medals are pinned
On mangy fur
And the Hounds of War
(pups following
the enticing scent)
Bay envious approval.

The War-Master smiles,
The Hare preens and dreams
It is the Alpha-dog,
Leader of the Pack,
When all it is is
The death-lure,

Sporting with pride
Its ridiculous ears
Nose twitching
At imagined fears
First contender
Of the Death Pool:

The Officer,
The Tool
The Fool.

MC

UNDER THE SKIN - Saffron, watercolours, ink

TRADE BEADS - Saffron, coffee, watercolours and ink

GILDED GIRL - Saffron, paprika, charcoal, magenta and ink

Theology is the art of squeezing political power out of the very human fear of death and eternal damnation...

BRAIDED GEOMETRIES - Saffron, coffee, charcoal and ink

SAFFRON SYLPH

Experimenting with painting with coffee, turmeric and paprika...

The sadness of goodbye, and the endurannce of the silence empty of a beloved presence.

My father left on his great journey 11 years ago today.

Quoting one of my ghosts explaining death and grief to a child:

“Life is short, but love is long, Isaiah. Everyone has a path, and because we love someone we can't understand why their path goes left, and ours goes right. We want to travel with them always, but at that place is where they turn to travel another way. Not because they love us less, or we need them less. And it hurts. And it's scary, because now we travel alone. But the love stays with us. And later on, we meet other people on our road and more love grows in us.”

“Like us and you and Mr.Simon.”

“Yes. And you know, I think one day we find everyone we have loved on a road somewhere. So we walk, and who knows? Next bend we find something new to love and to love us.”

from "PAWNING PEARL"

Manuela Cardiga

LIVING THE LIE, LOVING THE BOX

Humans fear change more than they love freedom.

BREAK THE CHAIN, BUT NOT THE BLAME

Slavery is crushing but always the enslaved are in greater numbers than the enslavers. The step towards freedom is not taken out of fear not only of violence...but from fear of freedom itself, fear of responsability, and decisions.

Whatever enslaves us, be it an unjust regime, a human and beloved oppressor, an idea or tradition, or a substance addiction; at some point some form of agreement exists or rebelion would be explosive and uncontrollable - and change would be inevitable.

Humans fear change more than they love freedom.

MC

NO FREE MEALS

It interesting to note that though people are eager to claim emancipation from oppression as a Right, they are less eager to embrace the necessary sacrifice - the hefty price always paid in the responsibility of taking on the burden of our own destiny.

So if we wish to be free we have to be willing to do without the subtle benefits and protections of submission.

We must trade in the comforts of predictable pain and own the mistakes we make - as much part of our liberty as the benefits of grace...


MC

Eleven years ago tomorrow my Dad went away. 

I miss him so much.
He was my best-friend, my one unconditional supporter, he believed I could do anything.

He was a kind.and, intensely shy man, a man of his word, who lived according to a strict code of honour, a fighter. He made every single day count: every single day, right to the end, he fought for his life. He did it with humour and dignity.

Everything I am I owe to him, I hope one day I will be worthy of the faith he had in me.

M.C.

PREFACE FOR "HAUNTED CHILDHOOD"

She saw that many people had underneath faces: supple, strange beguiling. She knew that trust was a dream she could no longer believe in. So she took her magic words and her terrible strength and made a great spell so no fear and no fury or monstrous claw could reach her, and so she was safe.


From "HAUNTED CHILDHOOD"
Manuela Cardiga