New York, New York
The radiance of your prescence surrounds me,
In the solitude of my red rock eerie,
Angel voices carried gently on the breeze, echo the cries of the human race,
Seated, gazing into infinity, soft purple grey mist, languidly fills the valley below, and
Dusk's mystic light floods the raving, now obscured from my view.
Silence permits me to hear whispered words borne on air,
And all God's creatures on the Earth below, cry out on the human suffering,
While humanly we stand in despair, not knowing, not seeing, not being, just here.
Our grief and confusion wraps endlessly on all we survey,
As we search for the light to guide our way to peaceful tomorrows.
I'm called to attention on each day's journey, never knowing how I've arrived in this space.
Now that you have my attention,
What is it you want me to know?
Now approaching my 56th year, I was faced with the threat of serious illness -- a cancer diagnosis. During the first spring, I began to paint Easter lilies, the kind that bloom pink and white, the perfume, so heavy, enlivening every fiber of my being. I understood the meaning of these lilies, more clearly than ever before: Life, death and rebirth, regeneration, transition and the beginning and celebration of a journey. These flowers, from Bouquet, were sent to me in the hospital. This was the first painting I did of my experience. I loved the colors and vibrancy of them.
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