A break from the cacophony and chaos, looking into this face.
“He fed me raindrops from a white rose petal.”
Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.
Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise’ yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.
It definitely feels like we are at a defining point in our nation, in our political life. The political is absolutely personal, and it reaches into every home and psyche. As an artist and as an academic, I ask myself how my own resistance will continue to manifest. There’s power in images and in words, which we’re finding out in ways we’d never imagined before.
It’s the first day of Spring, although it doesn’t feel like it. So many dark things going on. It makes the growing length of days feel dimmer. So, I pull my focus inward and take some deep breaths. The sky has grown overcast with an impending rainstorm, but the rain is much needed in this drought-stricken area in spite of potential mudslides.
A dear friend of mine, Tish, is a fellow word lover like myself. So when she wrote a post on her blog, Fatshadow, about discovering the word “horripilation,” I had to create an image to try and illustrate it.
Some words can be fascinating, compelling, like a melody that infects the brain. That word, for today, is horripilation.