100 years of remembrance: Robert Graves and his neurasthenia
11 November 2018
No Comments
Back in 2012, I started what has become a tradition of posting remembrance poems linked to trauma. While most of us lawyers know nothing of
Back in 2012, I started what has become a tradition of posting remembrance poems linked to trauma. While most of us lawyers know nothing of
“Have you news of my boy Jack?” Not this tide. “When d’you think that he’ll come back?” Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
Some of Owen’s lines make it hard not to think of the 3,350 that the International Organisation for Migration believe have drowned so far attempting to cross
Have you forgotten yet?… For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days, Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways: And
By choice they made themselves immune/To pity and whatever mourns in man/Before the last sea and the hapless stars A few weeks ago I spent a
An old friend sent me this yesterday. Having not read it for years, Owen’s lines about his dreams and helpless sight struck me even more
Back in 2012, I started what has become a tradition of posting remembrance poems linked to trauma. While most of us lawyers know nothing of war personally, many of our refugee clients have passed through something like it. The resulting trauma carries echoes of the suffering of the returning soldiers...
Some of Owen’s lines make it hard not to think of the 3,350 that the International Organisation for Migration believe have drowned so far attempting to cross the Mediterranean this year. The number of drownings so far in 2015 already exceed the total for the whole of 2014. With crossings...
Have you forgotten yet?… For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days, Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways: And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved...
By choice they made themselves immune/To pity and whatever mourns in man/Before the last sea and the hapless stars A few weeks ago I spent a Friday evening reading through some of the war poems of Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon. I was trying to get to grips with a case...
An old friend sent me this yesterday. Having not read it for years, Owen’s lines about his dreams and helpless sight struck me even more forcefully than the rest. All these years later there are still those that consider that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is not debilitating and serious and...
