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lizblackdog Jun. 21st, 2006 10:20 pm)
lizblackdog Jun. 21st, 2006 10:20 pm)Or, in other words, I'm in love again.
Ultraviolet. Not the movie, the series.
Trying very very very hard not to watch it all in one go; there's so little of it - but what there is is packed dense with things that hook and draw you in.
In other news - Still tired, still restless, still discontented and fed up. Kittens are fine, I took pics, will get round to posting them sometime.
Spike's fine but it worries and upsets me still.
I was about to say that I can't explain how seeing him limping, the visible reminder that he's only mortal flesh and I will likely see him die, makes me feel; but I think Robinson Jeffers can:
Hurt Hawks
I
The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.
II
I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk;
but the great redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.
We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance.
I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.
What fell was relaxed, Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what
Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.
- Robinson Jeffers
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ramona, you'll need a tissue before clicking the cut. I did.
Ultraviolet. Not the movie, the series.
Trying very very very hard not to watch it all in one go; there's so little of it - but what there is is packed dense with things that hook and draw you in.
In other news - Still tired, still restless, still discontented and fed up. Kittens are fine, I took pics, will get round to posting them sometime.
Spike's fine but it worries and upsets me still.
I was about to say that I can't explain how seeing him limping, the visible reminder that he's only mortal flesh and I will likely see him die, makes me feel; but I think Robinson Jeffers can:
Hurt Hawks
I
The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.
II
I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk;
but the great redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.
We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance.
I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.
What fell was relaxed, Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what
Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.
- Robinson Jeffers
ramona, you'll need a tissue before clicking the cut. I did.
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Yay! Had you not seen it? I totally would have recommended it to you if I'd realised, because it is, indeed, awesome. In fact, it's about time I rewatched...
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it wasn't only him I thought of.
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I understand about poor Spike, I was at the vet with Roy this week and left in tears, it's awful seeing the poor darlings in pain. I hope he gets better soon.
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although, twice in two years isn't really all that often. I think I'm just being paranoid.
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But it's good to be alert, especially as they can't tell us when anything is wrong!
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he needs more exercise. I've been skimping him for a while with the elbow and sick people and kittens and whatnot.
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I'm glad Spike's feeling better.
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Cats and hawks have a lot in common, character-wise - and Redtails are great snake-hunters, too.
*love*
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I also fell asleep watching it last night and had a bad dream about vampires, and that just never happens to me. I was very surprised.
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