I went down to the camp tonight with my brother and a friend, with a few things to donate. My Mum really took it to heart when I asked for stuff, and gave me a load of her jumpers to take down. My brother too. We took blankets, quilts and some candles and water. But the thing that seemed to cause the most delight was a little torch, decorated as a tiger, that is generated by pumping a handle. The guys in the donation tent seemed to be quite happy with that. The feel in the camp (we arrived at about 10pm or so) was calm, quiet and chilled. Groups of people gathered on the cathedral steps, behind the city of tents, and in others spaces. What sounded like bhodrans were played softly somewhere, and even the police in front of paternoster square seemed relatively chilled. Once again, sad to leave, but looking forward to going back. To find out what you can take to help, check here . Meanwhile, A few more photos.
REFLECTION
ReplyDeleteTrace the lines
The hemlines of eyes
Steal the steel flower
A birth hour for two
Confess the caress
Hasten the shiver - the taste of egress
Push the quiet agenda
Your propaganda on her lips
Your solitude in her fountain
Your humility at her feet
Your world at her grace
And watch her not bat an eye - not for you
The satin brazen child
Vulgar and defiant
Black carved-out eyes
Staring down life
Seducing from their caves
The tears of time
So despicable
So cold
So unnecessary
So much like you
So fragile
So irresistibly true.
Surely this needs a blog of its own!
ReplyDelete