Tag Archives: grass

78. Telltale (Empathy, 19)

78 telltale

Okay, I admit, as someone who was a goody-two-shoes at school I do have a little empathy already on this one. Being faultless at school was all about fear, I was terrified of being told off. But I don’t recall ever “dobbing” anyone in, as we called it then. Well, only myself. I was always saying everything was my fault. But what moves someone, particularly an adult, to be a “grass?”

Got to help the system work properly, and it can’t do that whilst people are continually breaking the rules. Cruel to be kind really. Plus why should I slog away and burn myself out trying to make ends meet as an honest, hardworking citizen, when other people are just lazing around and living on handouts? Course I’m going to let someone know. That’s what the authorities are for. It’s the same as saying about a dodgy bloke who lives in your road. You suspect he’s dealing drugs, you tell the police. It’s obvious, isn’t it? And if someone at work is fiddling, I’ll have a quiet word with the management. Can’t be doing with that. Rules are there for a reason, to keep us all safe, to keep the world bang to rights. I’ve lost friends of course, colleagues don’t talk to me much, my neighbours are polite, but cold. It’s a price worth paying, to keep the cogs of society turning as they should. I’m doing my bit.

Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

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147: Morning and Evening

147 stag

First light is soft and cool across the glade, and the long grass lying like hair shimmers with its dappling of dewdrops. I am sitting cross-legged and damp, but in the corner of my sight you appear, as if purposed, a doe in the dawn, discerning my presence and deciding it is safe for us to watch one another. The wind rustles across the greening, like breath across a harmonica, and the susurration hums in my Spirit. I close my eyes.

At the end of the day I stand, still as a watching stag on the rise, antlers aglow, the golden day-death painting one side of my motionless calm. I look to the last rays, bathed in your light, slightly lift my head to smell the sky burnt with colour. What a long way we have come, from one side of the horizon to the other, and always the lush grass with us. I close my eyes.

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015