Stigmata.

There was a trade in me just now: tears for hope, before the mythical bullshit stepped in to remind me: don't ever trust those church father's who canonised everyone in the name of their perception of who is worthy of Christ.

Stigmata indeed. It is another stupid legend instead of the acceptance of a man of insight as an insightful man (woman/woman). Francis of Assisi can't just have had a point about simplicity and material destitution (from his privileged (choice) position within the mercantile elite of mediaeval Italy?). Why does everyone with a point to make about the position we've come to, as we again face moral and material dispossession in the 21st Century, become someone who has had 'Miracles' occur round about them? Then the myths get more and more irrational depending on how deified they become them? It's all about saying this person was 'much more than a reasonable human, but was sent by God, Christ, etc. to absolve 'us' of 'our' sins! No they weren't. It's simple: they were demonstrating another way of being a human which didn't revolve about wealth, greed, grasping, wanting, desiring, etc.. I don't know why the Truth has to be undermined by this destructive church?

Can we ever get it back? The pain is universal. There are flying insects behind me, that will die of starvation or exhaustion because they can find no means out of the trap formed by the clear window. No matter how many windows I open many will never succeed in finding their onward path. This Abbey could cause many deaths without conscious thought? Is this an allegorical observation I wonder?

And two mature women talk and talk, in hushed whispers, but they never stop to question why? They're wrecklessness, foreboding, no good, daggers for teeth. They smile artificially and automatically every time I pass, but return to their colluding collisions - beyond them-self there is nothing - Tick Tock - now they cry as a spirit disturbs the warmth of the day - drifting between the Vertical Blinds. Maybe this is a suicide I hear against this window? Can I see you both grasping flick knifes under the tables to take turns of stabbing each other when your backs are turned?

Francis of Assisi looked after lepers so why weren't those wounds a sign he had leprosy?

***

It is 6pm but there is no difference in the the temperature here. As the bell called all to Messe the vines hang limp from the porch which faces the west and flies still battle with the impermeable force. The two mature women are still day talking in conspiratorial whispers. They're like me - they don't go in for cannibalism before dinner time - I guess.

As the rites of Friday afternoon finish in the Abbey the number of guests gather prior to Repas. I have opened the doors and windows and a gentle breeze sometimes drifts through me. It is silent here when the women disappear to 'make-up' themselves ready for 'miam miam'.

Having just left my cell, I find myself returning to its confines. It is cooler (relaxing) and quieter (no chattering) as the group gather to snigger, vocalise and fumer. The first bus away is at 6:50 am from the end of the lane/driveway - maybe not on a Samedi. Must check 'apres manger' so as not to arrive there tomorrow as an Ass.