She

She stands in the sun.

Only her back is visible, she looks away, looking ahead, looking somewhere. Her skin is tanned, her back crossed by only a black bikini strap, the ends hanging loose. Long brown skirt hanging from her waist.

In her left hand, hanging lightly, a yellow and black circle. Her skirts run into the river in which she is standing, pulling slightly ahead with the current. Fish sparkle, the river runs into the distance.

The sun is above her and to the right, and it is fierce!


It burns away the storm clouds, above her and to the left, they flee. Black and red and silver, roiling, lightning still cracks inside, but they are receding.

To her left, trees, dark and deep to the edge of the frame, yet as they get closer to the river, they brighten and stand taller and stronger. A green hill peeks from behind the trees and runs into the river.

On the hill… things… memories

a diamond

a human heart, in a pool of its own blood

The trees run down into deep dark earth, almost black. Healthy earth, but other than the trees, nothing can grow there anymore.

To the right of her, on the other side of the river, there is nothing but green. An open field, or perhaps a pristine park. What it is doesn’t matter, except that it is empty, pure, and clean. Waiting to feel life, the dance, the roll of bodies, tears shed in love, and tears shed in pain. Waiting for her to make it her own, to forge her path, to take her place.

But what is this?

peering deeper into the scene, looking closely at the whorls of the clouds, the bark of the trees, the rocks strewn about the ground, we see hidden markings

Everyone that comes into our life has the chance of making a difference in us, and there is the same chance that we will make a difference in them, and in the end, who we are, who any of us are, are a sum of all those encounters, all those relationships, whether they lasted a day, month, year or lifetime. Whether they brought us pain or love, joy or sorry, they changed us, they affected us.

She stands there in the water, and the spirits of the past, those who have shaped her, or challenged her so she was forced to shape herself, these spirits return and hide within the painting. The storm cloud holds her challenge, her pain. The earth hides the past loves, those that helped her grow, and shared her life with her for a long while before going along their own ways. These spirits keep the earth healthy and full, but grass doesn’t grow there, nothing is left there. The trees, in their strength lie the spirits that taught her to love herself, that validated her and gave her courage and true acceptance, that showed her what it was to be loved for who she was. The final spirits reside in the water, at her feet, their job is almost done. They have carried her all the way down the river so far, holding her as she stumbled and cried, keeping her fierce when she needed to survive.

She looks down the river

if we could see her face, I think we’d see that she was smiling, her eyes would be wet and there would still be a tear or two on her cheek, but the smile on her face, oh, it would be radiant

 


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