The world breaks
broken places
shattered mirrors
to reflect what is neglected
in dark corners.
My efforts are needed
i will turn to meet my destiny
reflected in shattered mirrors.
Unmolded clay
in my hand
nourishes new life.
The world breaks
I am a humble artist
molding my earthly clod.
Prayerful hands
i will trust to love.
Several years ago, I was grateful for the opportunity to return to a weekend workshop at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs, NY and be with my artist sisters of WWAM (Women Writers and Artists Matrix). A loving, powerful, far-seeing community of good living and loving in the world.
In one of the workshops, we played with broken pieces of glass added to a collage we made on a trypearche. Color, fabric shapes and designs and paint went on the surface.
Then we added the lines of a poem, selected from many she handed out. We cut these lines and added them to our art form in any order we were inspired to. I only wish I had added the name of the author of the original poem to the back. Yet, the beauty of it is that I “create” a new poem by reading the lines in different order any time I want.
Last, we we glued pieces of glass to our piece and shiny gem shapes and buttons.
I have kept my art piece in my sight. It has luminous energy about it. It speaks daily truth of the state of the world and the challenge before all of us, in any way in which I choose to read the lines.
Try it yourself. Take my poem I wrote today and write your own, choosing to start with “I will trust to love”. See what happens.
I am trusting us to begin and continue the work and loving and listening to be done.
Napkinwriter 