I saw a girl’s diary, in Russian, with the dates
that her mother died, her father, her sister….
I saw how much bread 125 grams is (2x2x6″)
they lived on that during much of the siege.
gallagher
21 Jun 87 #2
Leningrad
Archive for the ‘Catalyst2’ Category
1987-06-21 #2 – Leningrad
Thursday, April 27th, 20232023-10-25 – Ancestry
Monday, September 25th, 2023An hour can be so long.
And even a minute.
And yet the years stretch behind us,
gathering.
And here they lie before me
with all their days and hours; each lived.
Their births, marriages, children and deaths
one after the other; again and again.
I find myself pulled through time
to the coal fields of Eastern Pennsylvania
and the farms and dirt roads
where they all lived.
Rising and falling,
naming their children and passing their years.
And each with a life
as rich and full of feeling as mine.
I slot them here, one after the other, in their lives; come and gone
and nothing is left of them – save for a few photocopies
of old hand-written ledgers and some grainy photos
of faces who never saw a telephone or a light bulb.
And yet, in these pictures,
their eyes shine bright
with the light of a day, now forever gone,
but so clear and real to them … then.
And even after all this sifting through their lives
and dwelling on their passings,
my own mortality still, somehow,
remains, to me, just a possibility.
Gallagher
25Sep23
Christchurch
2023-12-29 – Murmurs
Saturday, December 30th, 2023I awake in the morning from dreams;
with the sound of rain
slowly filling the space
around me.
And my awareness arises,
quietly regarding the mysteries
before
my thoughts begin.
This mind, with all of its small interests,
just wants to understand enough
to survive, procreate and
to spite the ever creeping
entropic darkness.
We are both the lightness of being
and the darkness of conclusions drawn.
And all the while
the animal, within us,
still growls.
And we so automatically form
those beliefs
that prevent us from seeing
the naked truth
that lies all around us, endlessly.
And that naked truth
is utterly indifferent
as to whether we see it
or not.
The rain murmurs outside
and I turn and burrow deeper
into the covers of a bed
in a house where I am loved.
I am, in this one moment then, mind.
And in the next, just simple presence.
And I am all of this …
while the rain
murmurs and sings
and the mysteries enfold me.
gallagher
29Dec2023
Christchurch