I cried, “Why didn’t they listen years ago when she said it was in her lungs?”
“Woman hush – I am the radiologist and it’s normal.”
His words, like dung, running downstream to pollute the water of life.
The Crimson Crown by Heather Walter is an enthralling escape into the world of witchcraft, misogyny and murder. A time of religious burnings, where men smile in their piety as witches/women dance in hot iron shoes.
Funny to call it that, but when the soul journeys out from the body,
What else lies on the table but that which is enduring the cutting?
Like a lamb at the market providing only the choicest meat for observation.
We cover the globe with hands outstretched,
palms naked and dirty from ash
lying on our backs, looking at the sky as the spark of life leaps from our eyes.
Mouth opened for the sky;
that’s the you who’s new, who I keep in mind.
Waves of our mothers and fathers flow by,
grazing our toes in this sand of wartime.
The case proved difficult for Poston due to the complete lack of cooperation from his client. People’s minds and hearts had to be changed if he was to win this trial, starting with that of his client.
The characters are powerful motivators to the spirit of individuality in a place where individuality is not the norm. I felt a close kinship to Nubbin.