Wednesday

I am on the periphery of disaster.
The man falls from the bench.
For a brief moment
people laugh
and chase the escaped dog,
not recognising
the seriousness.

I am held for a brief moment,

too scared to help,
too ashamed to run.


Unfortunately, for now this blog must remain private, only for me to read, and that does make me less motivated to keep it. Even though I know no writing is ever wasted, there was an excitement about having people read what I had created and something appealing about the immediacy of being able to "publish" my thoughts so quickly. I had been so careful to maintain confidentiality and to be senstive in what I was saying (all accepted by the powers that be), but rules are rules so I am told. I feel that closing this blog to even a select few, is like saying come in, paint a picutre, but you won't be able to share it with anyone. It seems that in this case words are to be feared more than brush strokes. Are more writers imprisoned by despotic regimes than visual artists?

There is also some irony in the fact that the Department of Health itself is launching a website where patients (or anyone) can post comments about named hospitals, wards, doctors, nurses etc. Where will be the maintaining of confidentiality and the careful thought about expression in all of that I wonder?