battles.

Sometimes there are too many battles to fight and wildness is creeping into your ears and the lids of your eyes. So sit down and eat a giant bowl of pasta with cheese and butter and olives.  And read Samuel Menashe.

Old wounds leave good hollows
Where one who goes can hold
Himself in ghostly embraces
Of former powers and graces
Whose domain no strife mars --
I am made whole by my scars
For whatever now displaces
Follows all that once was
And without loss stows
Me into my own spaces
- Cargo, Samuel Menashe