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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Friday, January 11, 2013


Watching the family next door as they put one foot in front of the other, hardly able to navigate their way through the minutes, never mind the hours and days, I find myself disproportionately thankful that at least you are not here to learn of Juan's death. It is a bitter tragedy, one beyond understanding - how a man still reasonably young (certainly too young to die) could have bad headaches, be admitted to hospital for tests, have benign tumors removed and seem to be on the mend, then suddenly - the headaches return; the family try to get the doctors to take another look, are told everything is "usual" or "normal" and suddenly, the man is dead. Of course, there are likely no villains here but when a family is tattered, they need to assign blame and observing them in their shell-shocked state, I get that. Still, it is a small victory that you are not here to witness it.

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