In the glass of your prison

A card from Leonard arrived this morning. Not a postcard, a real a real envelope! The picture on the front is a photograph of Michelangelo’s La Pietà and inside, on the left hand side, Leonard has written:

Beneath this is a quotation from Alexis Carrel's Man the Unknown:

To progress again, man must remake himself.
And he cannot remake himself without suffering.
For he is both the marble and the sculptor.

On the inside right of the card, he has scribbled the following (evidently as an afterthought because the ink is smudged on this side of the card only):

I have no idea who Carrel is, but Leonard has helpfully added in small letters at the very bottom:

Leonard’s card was not the only surprise that arrived this morning - I also received my first email from Luke. Now I must check my email inbox for messages from Luke each morning in addition to checking the mail for postcards from Leonard! Luke has included a few photographs from my very first sessions at Elmfield and the message body contains two poems that Luke has written himself. He doesn't show his poetry to anyone, so I feel very honoured to receive them (he has included another tiny infinity symbol after his name too, which I take to represent something along the lines of ‘as always’ or even ‘yours forever’ - so sweet!).


I am frozen, you realise,
A soldier without orders.
An infertile angel
With dead eyes.

Heaven cannot take us on principle
Yet we have not delighted Hell.
And I know all too well
That a blemished egg cannot be returned
To its Father's nest.
I do not feel you reaching for me
Nor binding my hands.
Not that it matters.
Much like a blind actor at a mirror,
We bay and wail
And Death watches helplessly.

The Curator and the Id

On your first gasp of air
They seal the killing jar
And watch as you choke
In the sunlight and ethyl.
Poor captured psyche,
Preserved forever in a sealed tomb
With no door for your dying breath to leave.
But know that I will fight.
I will crack open my fractured heart
And blow into your punctured lungs
So that you can unfurl your wings.
There is no dust or decay here.
The air is clean and the waters are pure.

But if you were to drink
Then you would see so clearly
That I must hold you safe
From the ghosts and shadows

In the glass of your prison.