History tried to silence her. Strike her down. Steal her identity. An anonymous woman kneels, refusing to melt.
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Visual Art Contest.
History tried to silence her. Strike her down. Steal her identity. An anonymous woman kneels, refusing to melt.
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Visual Art Contest.
Can it be nothing more than new life?
Bounding through marshes
And clover
And buttercup
And moss
And underneath that moss
Death
Will we ever stop
Forming gaps for young children to fall through,
Teetering on the edge– –swinging their legs.
My grandmother's body slowly shifts into the rock, weaving into the dead texture. Eyes faded and grey, seeing more than I will ever know, and yet nothing at all.
Comments
I came here to speak on the mastery of snow here as a legitimate medium, for this is so much more than a snow(wo)man -- it is a true work of art -- but I want to say that your caption adds another layer to the sculpture as well. I can see and interpret her, now, in the empowered way you speak of. Her little belly and bellybutton make me smile, too!
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