An Angel at My Table-

[xseveredxwenchx]

I found this Janet Frame autobiography intriguing years ago....I'm glad to have found it again. The movie itself was beautifully filmed.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000A88EUU/ref=ase_myspace08-20/102-3978144-0772126

It amazes me what horrors some poor souls are subjected to throughout their lives while sharing/existing in such an insane world (that's too busy diagnosing everyone else....) because they're 'different' from everyone else. Most of the medical world is simply a bunch of over-educated, stodgy, greedy, egotistical fucking quacks.
I'm glad Janet Frame managed to escape their claws and share her story =0)

One of her poems:

The End

At the end

I have to move my sight up or down.

The path stops here.

Up is heaven, down is ocean

or, more simply, sky and sea rivalling

in welcome, crying Fly (or Drown) in me.

I have always found it hard to resist an invitation

especially when I have come to a dead end

a

dead

end.

The trees that grow along cliff-faces,

having suffered much from weather, put out thorns

taste of salt

ignore leaf-perm and polish:

hags under matted white hair

parcels of salt with the string tangled;

underneath

thumping the earth with their rebellious root-foot

trying to knock up

peace

out of her deep sleep.

I suppose, here, at the end, if I put out a path upon the air

I could walk on it, continue my life;

a plastic carpet, tight-rope style

but I've nothing beyond the end to hitch it to,

I can't see into the mist around the ocean;

I shall have to change to a bird or a fish.

I can't camp here at the end.

I wouldn't survive

unless returning to a mythical time

I became a tree

toothless with my eyes full of salt spray;

rooted, protesting on the edge of this cliff

- Let me stay!