Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" "Glice" "In search of Iris" "Speak soft my name" "Willowsong" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." "In a garden of roses, baby" "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." "Czernina (Dirk's-blood-soup?) and Murv Jacob's mural" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
...jam it down that gap rapidly and often. Until it hurts. me. So I made an ass out of myself last night. I'll write about that elsewhere... But it does beg the question: 1. How do we forgive ourselves when we realize we were wrong? I can only speak for us HSPs. Being Super Sensitive means we kick ourselves about mistakes long after others have forgotten the moment. Maybe if I say... "I don't hate myself; I only hate myself when I _____." I'm coping by focusing on other things. Like coffee! Or following the football game (UMontana barely won 18-15 in North Dakota on the last play). Talking with friends helps as long as I keep it brief. No one needs my s***; they have their own. So tonight I'll focus on my writing or editing photos or something. Tomorrow may be a road trip. If I don't mess it up. |