Stop All The Clocks

Let others celebrate Christmas this year; to me its just another day to struggle through.

There is no tinsel hanging, nor ball balls or a fine great tree with fairy lights.

There is no merriment, or festive cheer in this house ~ my daughter is dead.

It is so very hard to feel contentment when there is always the feeling of being wronged, someone so beloved always missing and a longing that is as primal as fear.

This sums up my feelings today:

Stop All The Clocks ~ W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.