The Eye-mote by Sylvia Plath

  Blameless as daylight I stood looking At a field of horses, necks bent, manes blown, Tails streaming against the green Backdrop of sycamores. Sun was striking White chapel pinnacles over the roofs, Holding the horses, the clouds, the leaves   Steadily rooted though they were all flowing Away to the left like reeds in a sea When the splinter flew in and stuck my eye, Needling it dark. Then I was seeing A melding of shapes in a hot rain: Horses warped on the altering green,   Outlandish as double-humped camels or unicorns, Grazing at the margins of a…

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Hold On – A New Blog Post from My Story Our Story

  I cannot hold on to old humiliations. I cannot let them seep into present-day interactions with friends, colleagues or my spouse. When I write these thoughts and feelings, they startle me with their power. They frighten me by their power. I cower and writhe under scrutiny from their power. Sunday evening, I fell prey to that might. My defences were down. Stress and defeat had tired me out. Suddenly, I was hit by an onslaught of subconscious memories. The sting of a fresh welt. A creaking bed. Stepfather grating my nerves raw. Laughing. My cheeks flushing hotly over an…

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