a promise

In late December I returned to my art to rest and reflect. As I began to assemble my thoughts, I rediscovered pieces of linen, cotton, and silk I had painted and eco-printed last summer.

In wintry silence, I was led by the images embedded in the cloth to discover the form in which they were meant to be. Surrounded by the gray sky and the air's deep chill, Julian of Norwich's hopeful words were a constant refrain.

"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well"

As I was finishing this piece, it assured me that

as long as birds nest within bare and gnarled rhododendron and azalea branches,

as long as the moon rises in its fullness;

as long as the the snow penetrates the earth;

new growth will spring forth

and I, too, will be well.

a promise

Within brittle bones swept bare is my promise.

Do you hear faint murmur of tiny heart, beating?

Do you see flash of blue hidden within?

Take my hand, i am here.