Sometimes it hurts To see the clouds so far away, Blue grey, To see the furrows running furiously Toward their consummation with the sky, Nor sticks, nor burrs, nor clouds to bar the way. It’s then I sense that I am here To name the color of pale winter straw, To know and honor what I see. Ink, pens and paper clips have had their day, Imprisoning procreative powers In ghettos of the mind and money games That we were never meant to play, but Earth remains — Silent as it’s ever been, And faithful, to those who own her sway. Patricia Andrews 1990 Rev.
Thank you for your kind remarks. I appreciate the critical feedback. It’s so hard to try and work “in the dark”. I am also an artist. Feedback is important. It isn’t for the ego, it’s to understand whether the medium (whatever it is) made the connection (or not 🤫).
I totally understand that. We humans need that communication and, when we are artists, that perspective from another really keeps us out of our own heads as we are in constant critique of ourselves. It is refreshing to have another voice chime in!
A beautiful, powerful, and felt it to my core piece! That first stanza had me right there from the start!
Blessings and MUCH LOVE,
~Wendy💜
Thank you for your kind remarks. I appreciate the critical feedback. It’s so hard to try and work “in the dark”. I am also an artist. Feedback is important. It isn’t for the ego, it’s to understand whether the medium (whatever it is) made the connection (or not 🤫).
I totally understand that. We humans need that communication and, when we are artists, that perspective from another really keeps us out of our own heads as we are in constant critique of ourselves. It is refreshing to have another voice chime in!
~Wendy💜
Thank you for sharing this with those who are grateful to be held in Gaea’s embrace.