Artist’s Note 🌿
As I fell asleep three weeks ago,
Slipping into liminal dreamspace—
I saw children walking
Barefoot
Down an empty highway.
A storm rolled in kicking up dust, dust,
And more dust,
Blinding and choking and shoving
Back.
Some sat and waited, curling up on pavement
And it became their tomb.
Some said “We must continue forward,”
And inched and crept and stood,
Though it was the hardest thing they had done,
This standing,
And all at once the storm broke open,
Bright new day upon shining, gritty faces.
This week has been the storm
I think,
Yet, I smell the faint sharp air
And I dig in my heels:
The bright new day is coming,
And I will rise to meet it.
❦ Heather
Thank you for reading these feral Contemplations, an archive of pastoral psalms, visual art, and adventure. Contemplations is a subsidiary of the Heather in the Blue Mountains newsletter.
**If you enjoyed this creative ramble, please consider checking out some of my other work. 🌿