Two faces of water (in time of Covid-19)


The river speaks her name,
sparkles with intelligence.
Her voice is big.

She opens, listens,
births infinite
sounds running deep.

Her shining hand
lifts rocks,
her eyes know.

She spreads, receives,
groins anew
her course,

ancients beds,
falls as snow,

pounds copper.
Her head
is a rainbow.

She is priestess of under-earth,
hands and feet move
in ritual.

Teeth and heart voice its name.
She asks: ‘Where
do you hurt?’

‘I hurt in the top of my head.’
‘Abu, god of plants,
be born from your head.’


This is the year,
the year of numbers.
We are the ones
ruled by statistics,
constantly watching.

He slipped through our fingers,
a hydrating slither,
baptised his anointed,
pronounced him leader.

And the place of the golden infant’s
classified sacred.

Picture: Sabine Regler (Germany)

Music: Ben Fisher (England)

Poem: Josephine Dickinson (England)

Ben’s lyrics for his song:


We’re on a lockdown

I’ve never felt lower

The cat is getting thinner

I got something on my toes

We’re on a beat down

Mood is getting heavy

Air is an enemy

Scared to exhale

Does anyone care for us

Like I do for you

Is anyone coming to save us, like a Superman would

It’s getting harder now

My resolve has diminished

I can feel a temptation

The sugar’s on my tongue

We’re on a lockdown

Going round and round

Inside and out

And there’s nowhere else to go

Does anyone care for us

Like I do for you

Is anyone coming to save us, like a Superman would

Like a Superman would

Sabine writes about her picture

‘The frozen dog’ – The corona shutdown left me isolated from social pressure, superfluous career thoughts, and the uncomfortable pressure of making sense.

So I painted (for myself) what impressed me most at the moment; As children do. They just paint for themselves what moves them in exactly the moment they start painting. If they see a horse they like, they’ll paint that horse. No expectations, no intentions, no need for success.

I watched a documentary called “Solo, der Wildhund” (great show!) on arte (a TV channel) before and fell madly in love with that animal.

So I painted myself an African wild dog!! It just stands there, frozen, no action, quiet and peaceful like the streets during shutdown, when time stood still.

I think it´s a boring picture, but I still love that ‘Painted Dog’ (as they are, in fact, called ….. fantastic coincidence)

The African Painted Dogs are massively threatened with extinction (as I found out later on).  I think this fact sadly fits the pandemic.

Things fall apart.


  1. Mel

    Brilliant love this

  2. Lois P. Jones

    I love this dog with winter captive in his vision, all in the eyes of it as we are. And the poem is a lyric portrait and a prayer. Thank you so much for this.


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