Let the Truth be told - forever.

I am an avid cinema-goer. I like to watch the previews and select a couple of must-see films to see in the coming weeks. These days there are often so few people in the auditorium that I am surprised that the industry remains profitable. Perhaps my own selections are not mainstream: not in tune with popular viewing pleasure.

Some films have an effect that lasts well beyond the cinema experience. I am reminded of Spielberg's incredible Jaws. I went with my parents and can honestly say that we were all petrified and perched on the edge of our seats.

In 1993 I went with my husband to preview Jurassic Park, unsure at the time whether the movie would be too scary for my young son to view. The scenes with velociraptors still remain with me and like Jaws, the sound track still evokes an emotional response.

There is one film experience that I will never forget because the effect on the viewing audience was simply incredible. Leaving the cinema after a film, the departing audience are usually chatting, discussing their favourite scenes. Leaving the cinema after watching Schindler's List was a completely unique experience. Everyone left in complete silence. The effect was profound.

I knew all about the holocaust. There was a TV series called Auschwitz that had educated and informed my own generation of the brutality of the Nazi Jewish genocide during WW2. I expect that for many in the audience that night, the Spielberg portrayal may have been a first encounter with the truth about the Nazi death camps that murdered over 6 million Jews.

What I find so difficult to understand, is not that the younger generation may not  aware of those horrific events, but that there are people who vehemently deny that they actually took place. It is my hope that the Holocaust should be taught in schools across Europe in graphic detail. Only in this way can we be certain that a new wave of Nazism cannot take hold in the future. The truth has to be told: the eyes and minds of every future generation must be opened wide.

The Naked Truth

They were forced into cattle trucks

And shunted to this place,

So far from prying eyes,

Where looming towers

Overlook the rows of huts

Cramped with rough wooden bunks.

They are stripped of belongings,

Heads shaved and barcodes
Cruelly inked into their forearms.
Names replaced by numbers
Pride replaced by shame.
Dehumanised.

A man they call ‘the doctor’
Mauls the women’s breasts
And then selects
Rejects
Some to the left -
Some to the right.

Now they stand huddled in queues
A hundred at a time
Stripped and hopeful for a shower
They muddle in
They urinate and defecate in fear
As the cannisters release the pungent gas.

And now their bodies lie tangled

In piles of naked inhumanity
Shovelled into brutal ovens
As their ashes fall
Like snow upon the ground
Without a sound.

Hundreds of futures
Lost forever
And yet decades on
Many try to deny the Jewish holocaust
The naked truth
Must prevail. 

Thanks for reading. Please pass it on.

Read More

Run - only if I am being chased.

I don't run.  Not for pleasure anyway. I like to walk to the very idea of jogging about on a hard pavement disturbs my equilibrium.  I enjoy walking. Walking is great.

I trained as a dancer.  I have danced on many of the finest ballroom floors in the Northern hemisphere. Granted the floors that I trained on were not always sprung but they were mostly made of  polished wood, with the exception of Matlock Bath where huge stone slabs were laid over the pool.  The stiffness in our legs, after a day competing all day on a stone floor, was unbelievable.  No I am not fond of doing anything strenuous on a hard floor. Bad for the ankles, the knees, the hips and the neck.

I am not opposed to running in general.  My daughter did a bit of track running when she gave up gymnastics but didn't stick with it for long.  I think after floor, beam, bars and vault, hurdling was a bit tame. My niece Olivia is a champion pole-vaulter and that needs a great burst of speed.  My eldest brother played club rugby union but as a family we tend not to distance run. My ex-husband's family  run marathons.  I only run if I have to.

Remember the scene in Jurassic Park when the gorgeous blonde has hurt her leg?  She can see the door of the enclosure, where she will be safe but there is  at least one ravenous velociraptor somewhere nearby.  She summons all her strength and shouts "Run!"  Well that is when I would run. Probably the only time I would really run.

That said, I admire people who run. I am an armchair athlete and will spend many happy hours this Summer watching the Rio Olympics. I love the sprints, the relays, even the distance events. I will be cheering our athletes on. I know what it is like to train hard to reach your goals. As a poet - I can imagine...

Visualisation

This is it.

This is the moment.
This is what all the hard work was about.
This is the early starts pounding the block.
This is the start of my race with the clock.
This is the sweat and the blisters and tears.
This is moment I’ve trained for - for years.

 Breath.

This is my journey.

My life.
My desire.
The race to the finish.
The test to the wire.
This is my challenge.
The fight to the end.
The power in my muscles.
My strength through the bend.

Breath.

This is it.

The silence.
Twenty seconds
From the sound of the gun.
The race of my life will be won.

Run!

Thanks for reading. Adele

Read More