Posts Tagged: Désir

Joyeux anniversaire à Antonine Maillet née le 10 mai 1929

C’est bientôt le 95ième anniversaire d’Antonine Maillet.
Ecoutez son talent de conteuse, son beau parlé d’Acadie, et le récit du retour de Pélagie après des années d’exil.

« L’exil, c’est un dur moment à passer pour l’Histoire… Hormis qu’elle en sorte. »


En chemin…

The longing for something eternal

From a conversation between Ulrik Alver Solli and Erik Varden O.C.S.O

– Do we sufficiently recognise the need for spiritual realities in today’s society?
–I don’t believe so. And the older I get, the more it is my rational conviction that we don’t. The human being carries something like a seed of eternity. This can be s source of frustration, even pain, in people – this fact of carrying, albeit unconsciously, the longing for something eternal.
– How can this be remedied?
– Primarily, I’d say, by recognising that I have in me something that will not be satisfied by anything immediate, that spurs me on to extend my existence in such a way that it will reach the dimensions of my longing. It is about recognising that I carry a thirst for boundlessness that will not be slaked by a one-click purchase from Amazon.


Is it real ?

Silence yearns to hear herself
Some long lost memory rings a bell
Called home

From a song by Karin Bergquist & Linford Detweiler

La coupe immense

oh ! que je viderais, ce soir , avec amour, la coupe immense et bleue où le firmament rôde !

Paul Fort

Be the Church you want

St Stephen's, Gloucester Road, London, November 2019

Walking in to a Church was so easy



Visitations – Tom Darin Liskey


I was ten
That winter night
When my brain
Burned with fever
And I lay
Dreaming awake
That you had come back
From the firmament;
An unwinged angel
Sitting at my bedside
Speaking words
That sounded like fire
In my ears.
I don’t know
If it was real anymore.
Maybe it was just yearning
To touch you once more
The way the blind read braille;
Or maybe it was just
The hot syllables of sickness
Wailing like sinners
At a tent revival
Behind my burning eyes.
But whatever it was
That night, with the snow
Beginning to fall
Your hand touched my skin
And the fever broke.

Tom Darin Liskey is a poet and a photographer
The photograph and the poem are his work