I updated my site again. The second time this year. These new beginnings are another chance at survival. Embracing what I will become while accepting the current condition of my heart and soul.
I gently ease into this new idea of me. Playing around with logistics until it feels like home.
This is where I am. Wabi-Sabi. An imperfect ideal of being me.
To tend the minute
winding details around time mapping each morsel
Is it Spring that welcomes you? Or Summer heated blues?
Nothing stays long enough to know. —Mary Szybist,
Incarnadine: Poems My head aches with worried words
the squirrels chattering all day long it is “nuts” i say to play this way so i venture on. And in the view I capture two spaces, far and near my heart feels lost the cost too much and time wonders why. Is it Spring that welcomes us dancing in the street where no one drives the coast is clear your feet travel far. I loved you once and tried again to be brushed aside rushing for the sun where all darkness hides. I forgot green runs too so long they last the brown songs past. We once walked single file holding beaded pearls and slowly I let go the rope.
Atop the rocky hill blooms one exquisite Lady Slipper. She, a Spring passage to Summer, and I haven’t switched over my Winter clothes.
Lady Slipper 2.0
Three days later pink color appears. Her cheeks ruddy and weathered from sunlight. She glows. A rare sight to behold. A lady has her ways.
The intricate life of the North American orchid ‘
Cypripedium acaule’ fascinates. The flower lures bees with smell and color. Once inside the pouch, the bee realizes the store is empty and has only one way out. With such news, the trapped bee scurries to find the exit sign, whereupon pollen deposits and collects. https://www.fs.fed.us/wildflowers/plant-of-the-week/cypripedium_acaule.shtml
What do people know about us? Separate from what we have told, how can others know us? What symbiotic relationships do we pursue in order to fruit?
Abandoned Voices #2 I can’t keep the magic
happening while the sky peels back the gray. Instead, I make an appointment to speak to Dr. Such and so the moment melts away.
Same scene. Second glance. A vision that keeps turning my head. To walk the valley is difficult. To rise above circumstances, a feat.
The answers to life are buried deep inside each of us. It is the voices we tend to hear that promise love or hope or gifts that steer us off course. We tremble at conflict and derision and loss.
What magic do you hold inside that keeps you moving toward a goal? And when do you become an enemy to prized dreams and visions? What setbacks or traps have you allowed to sabotage your destination?
The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.
Abandoned Voices #1 To taste the air.
To know the wind. To watch a bird take flight and welcome home freedom’s fight. To touch the ground’s growing heartbeat. To know our day’s bleak as we are weak to ever soar above.
If we understood each waking hour, what sound emerges for us? What lays at the edge of every step we take? Is freedom ever found?
The glimmer of hope rings true until the descent brings one closer. So how does one revive the home fire when all the logs are burnt?
I hope to continue
Abandoned Voices through a series of photos that capture thoughts and answer questions. This being the first photograph, edited.