“Be careful when speaking. You create the world around you with your words.”
(Maybe some advice our president can take to heart)
Poetry has been my saving grace over the last couple years, when it seemed like my painting pulled me to my darkest depths, the stitching of words, writing and poetry pulled me back out and I am forever grateful for that and for my teachers that guided me toward that, I’m sure you know who you are.
An exercise that was passed along, much like the word magnets on the refrigerator game, is to pick phrases from a bowl. So this morning when phrases came streaming in over the weekend and today but not in any context, that is my approach.
On this grey day, this emerges-
Birds in liminal meadows
Water flows, sun rises
In missing you, am I missing the point?
Differences of Mystics, saints and sages?
Orchard of my childhood
A stitch to path
A path to stitch
Am I missing pieces?
Spring springs, men fall