Lavender probes a rim of midnight blue, the tender touch of land and sky as daylight yields to night. I am ragged, like the thistle’s fringe, so insignificant in this vastness, yet reaching for the sinking sun. And the hem of a robe sweeps low, setting the sky on fire. Setting me on fire. Like…Read more When A Thistle Matters
Poetry
Timeless
Wandering in a Winter Forest; 2021; 7.5" x 13'; mixed media: ink, watercolor, gouache, oil pastel, graphite. Grasses arc ochre, under frozen sheen, sparkling like the laughter of my grandma, bowing at her feet. I see her there, at a picnic table, her wisdom words still embedded in black, trusting limbs, still reaching under the…Read more Timeless
Out of Flames… Wings
As I began to paint again, irresistibly drawn by "the stronger pull," an old theme re-surfaces. The idea that out of the fiercest flames of our lives, we are granted wings to fly high - and carry others with us. The Wings are Mine Dense winged creature clawing my chest - cawing over charred dreams,…Read more Out of Flames… Wings
Years Bending Into Time
Years Bending Into Time hot the night air white the hot light dancing in distant moonlit fields drowning in years of gathered emptying skies pouring down our windowpane drumming our whispers into the restless drone of the fan of still musty the dusty presence of settling walls of eyes in photos in every room settling with…Read more Years Bending Into Time
Shattering Into Light
Here, taunting dark, questions stab, backwards bend. Shutting down, like sifting sands closing in. Tender, firm command: “Ask.” Gentle touch: Unanswerable questions, open wounds. Eyes downcast, hesitant, unable to hold this claustrophobic space anymore, I ask. “Now, listen.” There, in quiet circle of sentinel trees, I hear: not a mighty wind, not an audible voice,…Read more Shattering Into Light
Unless A Grain of Wheat Falls….
All around me the earth flutters. Dreaming of the future, it sends messages like little notes for tomorrow, twirling in gray dawn sky, like rain. The tree is determined to hope. How does the tree know it is time? How am I here at just this moment to witness its innermost thoughts? No one tells the tree,…Read more Unless A Grain of Wheat Falls….
The Wings Are Mine
Like a dense, winged creature draped across my chest, it caws over charred dreams, disintegrating into ashes. But still the fire rages. What is left to burn? The bird's merciless wings fan flames hotter and heavy. Until a moment of inexplicable release. Rescue. A force of goodness beating the creature back, forcing it to lift.…Read more The Wings Are Mine
I Am Still Here
Cruel winter winds too fiercely blow. They drive me deep beyond where I can speak. Everything silent except a heart beat, my own. Waiting, listening, I survive. Until the day harsh winds scamper away, tails between legs, ashamed, chased away as the liars they always were. All that was frozen, drop by drop, slides into a…Read more I Am Still Here
Your Voice
For you, plow my silent body into arid soil. There, where I lie mute, plant your seed. I will hold your fragile roots. There, tangle in a word, your word. Become your word. Like a tender seedling whisper to the light, swell into testament. Burst above ground. And then, dare the morning to sing louder.…Read more Your Voice
Battered Little Tree
when harsh winds blow and I stand exposed with no hope of my own, battered and bruised: wrestling an angry sky, clinging to barren rock, bound by sedimentary days then - probe deep let questions fuel furious chiseling through, let desperate seeking leech Presence from silence oh, little tree swallowed by rock too grand, sky…Read more Battered Little Tree
Colleen Briggs Art & Writing 