This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Wednesday, 21 December 2016

Daddy, Daddy,
What will paradise be like?

Will there still be trees and flowers and grass there?
When all of these are gone in Jersey?
Swallowed up by concrete and greed,
So that I long for the green hills of England.

Precious Daughter, paradise will be what you want it to be,
so if you want hills and trees and fields, they will be there.

But what about my island? I love my island?
The sea and the rocks, this is my home.

In paradise the island and the green hills will all be there. 
The trains that you love, and the sea and the rocks. 

Daddy, Mummy, I reached paradise, my island and my sea,
my beautiful English hills and trees and grass.
But Daddy, Mummy, why aren't you here?
Why is there an injury in my heart and mind that nothing will heal?

It was such a long journey home through the dark, 
and my heart is aching, because a child needs her parents, 
even if they are abusive and destroy her soul,
a child bonds with their parents, a bond that never breaks.

And in all the attacks of the evil ones, 
they never stopped to consider the damage done
and everything that was lost
and all I have left is my island home and waiting

The lantern bearer waiting in the shadows laughs quietly
'your island?'
And I laugh too
because the biggest triumph can never be spoken 

No comments:

Post a Comment