I Remember…

“If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.”
~ Wilfred Owen

Hammer Headology

“Granny Weatherwax had never heard of psychiatry and would have had no truck with it even if she had. There are some arts too black even for a witch. She practiced headology—practiced, in fact, until she was very good at it. And though there may be some superficial similarities between a psychiatrist and a headologist, there is a huge practical difference. A psychiatrist, dealing with a man who fears he is being followed by a large and terrible monster, will endeavor to convince him that monsters don’t exist. Granny Weatherwax would simply give him a chair to stand on and a very heavy stick.” ~ Terry Pratchett

 

I know love can rip,

rip the guts out of walls built to kick
maimed wings that believe

freedom is a myth that only happens to some-
one never forced to bleed to live,

live knowing that empathy must be,

be a balance-kissed hammer
always willing to fix the world

or rip

what needs ripping.

 

 

– linked to Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 and Poets United.