 The Willower |
Gallery Journal February 18th, 2002 Come to the Gallery Sea, I said, on September 13th... Five months later, the world is still an intriguing, rending, expansive place. Everything changed, some say - but nothing has changed, as well. No mystery, no magic, no sanctity of earth is less. Some grief has come to roost. Bridges failed, and have been built. I have watched as hands grasped new friends, as hands covered eyes and ears to block out resolution. I have wept, with relief, with sadness, with gratitude. |
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The willows are still willows. Old leaves sleep, tucked between wide rocks and scattered abalone shelters. New leaves strain inside the bark to come again. The willows sip from the creek at their feet, and know the world. I rest beside the willowers to watch for spring. It seems that in this fluid space, it is wiser to make offerings as they arise. Last night, drowned in exhaustion and grief, still a new story made rivulets in my mind, and I rose and wrote. Light is unpredictable, except in the promise that it will come. So, I will post to the Gallery when it comes. If you want to know when new pictures and ponderings are here, send me an email, and I will add you to the Gallery list. Or just check back when the mood appeals. Brightest dreams to you all, Maia |
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Copyright (c) 1998-2002 by Maia Cheli-Colando.