Art of Luda

Luda is 28 years old. She remembers as a young girl coming first in a race at school. But that is now a very distant memory. When Luda was 16 years old she became sick and as a result developed ‘miasteniya’. This disease affects nerves and muscles and consequently Luda was left in a wheel chair for a number of years. Miasteniya is treatable but costly. Luda has had one operation and she walks with a pronounced limp. Stairs are very difficult and slow for her. Usually someone carries her up and down the stairs at church.

I had the privilege of visiting Luda and seeing her art work. She loves to draw. She mainly draws objects or copies pictures that are in front of her. I photographed a sampling of her art (sorry I don’t have a photo of Luda yet as she decided she was not dressed properly for a photograph).

We talked at length. I hesitantly asked her about her limp. She was really happy to talk. She wanted to know if I had more questions. She said it was wonderful for someone to take an interest in her life. She has very few visitors and doesn’t get out of the house very much at all.

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Running Around

Down the track
Through the trees
Think I’ll do eight today
Left at the top of the steps
Gee everyone is slow
Wonder if Sasha likes Natasha
They look pretty chummy
Left at the brick shed
So far so good
Head full of nothing
Mind the broken glass
Left at the bottom of the drive
Grab a leaf off the tree
Why do I do this?
I’m just running around

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Listening to Sermons

Man is talking
Mind is walking
When will this come to an end?
So I can talk to my friend
I did ask God to hear Him speak
But concentration now is weak
Really really hot in here
Mobile phone sounds fill the air
Why are we all sitting here?

Formal teaching can be dry
So I ask the question why?
Is it me or is it him?
(That translator is not slim!)
Why can thoughts so easily roam?
What’re the boys doing back at home?
People round me so distracting
Who is listening - who is acting?
Those things there – how much did they cost?
And the MP3 player that I lost

Man still talking on the stage
To these people in this cage
I hope their thoughts are not like mine
You can always find me on line
But how do you know what is real?
Can you trust the things you feel?

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Poem - Electricity

That silent force
Buzzing through the overhead wires
Encircling the house
Penetrating the walls
Needs connecting
And silently starts working

Do you see it?
Do you think about it?
Do you know that it affects your day?

But blindly you press on – unaware
Until it’s gone – taken from you
And you cry out
You cry out
How can I live without you!

Another force
Sent from above
Like a rushing wind
Like a still small voice
Needs connecting

Do you know Him?
Do you think about Him?
Do you allow Him to affect your day?

But you blindly press on – unaware
Until life is gone – taken from you
And you cry out
You cry out
Why did I live without you!

May Monthly Update 2007

As I was typing this letter my neighbour came over and reminded me that I had promised to help her grandson move. He and his wife and daughter are moving back into the family home next door. She said I’d better go now cause his stuff is outside and it’s about to rain. When I finished helping them a couple more guys came over to borrow some volleyball gear and have a cup of tea. Life is full of interruptions or should I call them opportunities? It depends on my perspective.

Rural Ukraine Foreign Language Service
The registration process is still in the pipeline. I have made progress and am awaiting some translation services to be completed.

The exciting news is the students. I now have four classes a week. This is keeping me on my toes in preparation. I am still looking to find some really helpful resources. I have just a few. I plan on attending some ESL courses when I am back in Australia next year.

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Silent Observers

Silently standing
Motionless standing
Helpless standing
Side by side
One upon another
Strong, sturdy, helpless, silent

We wanted to act - but we could not
We wanted to scream out - but this was impossible
We know the truth
We saw the truth
Yet the truth remains hidden with us

We didn't understand
And still we do not understand
We are all the same more or less
Some have different functions - some are more prominent
But more or less all the same

So are they - more or less all the same
So why?
We don't know

But we know they fell
Their blood - stains
The smell of their burning flesh - abides The stench of the squalor in which they lived - remains
And if you listen carefully - their helpless, pitiful cries for mercy continue to echo off us

We were helpless
We were silent
We are bricks

Blog: Poem

On a train
In the rain
Feel the pain
Thoughts swirling
Ideas unfurling
But never reach their destination
Captive of my imagination
Cannot sleep
Cannot read
Cannot plan the things I need
Want to plan for peace and joy
I feel I’m the devil’s toy
In a game of luck and dice
And yet I know he paid the price
Free Indeed, Free Indeed
I Praise God I'm Free Indeed!

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