Tuesday, August 14, 2012


Bereft by Robert Frost

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.

Majia here: I was looking for a word to express the emotion that welled inside me when I read this headline at Enenews:

Professor who met with Fukushima physicians: Thyroid diseases already apparent — Diseased newborns and Down’s syndrome still kept secret

Enenews was reposting a story translated and posted by FRCSR.

FRCSR: In Fukushima, lessons of Chernobyl are ignored:

[Excerpted] An interview of Dr. Michel Fernex, a professor at University of Basel in Switzerland who visited Fukushima.

I met with four physicians from Fukushima Medical University in cardiology, urology, internal medicine and ophthalmology. They all seemed unaware of conditions related to radiation contamination. They were very surprised to see young patients with myocardial infarction, diabetes and eye diseases. I told them about the work of Professor Bandazhevsky which highlighted the links between contamination, particularly by Cesium 137, and these diseases.

Directive was given at Fukushima Medical University not to mention radiation... A country such as Japan with strong research abilities should further investigate the genetic alterations induced by radiation contamination and develop anti-mutagenics to reduce genetic abnormalities that will be passed on from generation to generation....

[end excerpt: Original French article: http://independentwho.org/fr/2012/08/02/lecons-ignorees/)

Majia here: A wind with a deeper roar and a stormy shore?

Summer in the garden in surely passed.

We are now bereft in a hell of our own making. The floor is most definitely sagging.

Yet, so proud we are in our technological dystopia that we cannot even speak of our growing infanticide.

Damaged infant bodies are merely buried under the sagging floor.

Something very sinister in the tone of those who seek to maintain the fantasy of endless, heedless days of summer.

Winter's consequences could be absolute for a species that heeds not every warning in the wind and soil, and in its own offspring.

Our sins are encoded in the butterflies, in the fish, in the babies born already with overt symptoms of something so wrong that it cannot be spoken aloud by those who produced it.

Can grace be extended to ones so knowingly wicked?


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