mission

Yin and yang..............

The presentation, like falling raindrops, is stunning .The entire thought is encapsulated to a single moment, the pain of life and the divinity of a moment with someone. Really lovely.

Thank you so much your lovely comment.

Lady Lazarus

Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
 One year in every ten
 I manage it——

 A sort of walking miracle, my skin
 Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
 My right foot

 A paperweight,
 My face a featureless, fine
 Jew linen.

 Peel off the napkin
 0 my enemy.
 Do I terrify?——

 The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
 The sour breath
 Will vanish in a day.

 Soon, soon the flesh
 The grave cave ate will be
 At home on me

 And I a smiling woman.
 I am only thirty.
 And like the cat I have nine times to die.

 This is Number Three.
 What a trash
 To annihilate each decade.

 What a million filaments.
 The peanut-crunching crowd
 Shoves in to see

 Them unwrap me hand and foot
 The big strip tease.
 Gentlemen, ladies

 These are my hands
 My knees.
 I may be skin and bone,

 Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
 The first time it happened I was ten.
 It was an accident.

 The second time I meant
 To last it out and not come back at all.
 I rocked shut

 As a seashell.
 They had to call and call
 And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

 Dying
 Is an art, like everything else,
 I do it exceptionally well.

 I do it so it feels like hell.
 I do it so it feels real.
 I guess you could say I've a call.

 It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
 It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
 It's the theatrical

 Comeback in broad day
 To the same place, the same face, the same brute
 Amused shout:

 'A miracle!'
 That knocks me out.
 There is a charge

 For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
 For the hearing of my heart——
 It really goes.

 And there is a charge, a very large charge
 For a word or a touch
 Or a bit of blood

 Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
 So, so, Herr Doktor.
 So, Herr Enemy.

 I am your opus,
 I am your valuable,
 The pure gold baby

 That melts to a shriek.
 I turn and burn.
 Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

 Ash, ash —-
 You poke and stir.
 Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

 A cake of soap,
 A wedding ring,
 A gold filling.

 Herr God, Herr Lucifer
 Beware
 Beware.

 Out of the ash
 I rise with my red hair
 And I eat men like air.

(ovation)

I re-read The Bell Jar last year, she is absolutely an idol.  

That was a beautiful reply, and I'm deeply touched by you offering me an honorific such as that.