…weep and you weep alone.
These lines are from Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s poem, Solitude. This poem resonates with me today, as my poor, battered body is gripped by shiver-sweats. Oh ill health! Oh chicken soup! It is hard having to drag oneself into the kitchen to get the necessary fluids when one feels like a lump of lead. My lovely poet hubby, Joseph Robert, has gone to work, so it’s me alone on this desert island (sofa) fending off sharks (the dirty dishes that need washed, but I am too weak!). So my post goes out to all those readers who are at home alone and suffering, as I am.
Does illness affect creativity? Being in bed with a fever does not impede the ability to type. And a high temperature can often be good for creativity, as it gets the imagination flowing. Am I practising what I preach today and creating anything? I won’t be writing today, as from my sickbed I will be wearing my Magazine-Editor-in-Chief’s hat. Bindweed Magazine will be publishing Robert Fabre’s poems today. So, all you lonely souls out there weeping and weeping alone, click on over to Bindweed Magazine for a jolly good read!