pastel on paper
10" x 12¼"
sold
Ghosts
in garden
While we linger
over unsorted memories
we may not know whether apparitions
are ghosts, ancestral spirits or personal
past lives coming back into remembrance.
Yet we do know that everything
is seized and sized by this moment.
Everything will reshape itself.
Fallen stone's new surfaces grow lichen
and saplings mature into mighty oaks.
Why do we weep or laugh?
Is there so little rest
in the gap between manifestation and eternity?
Apples become wrinkled and sweet before,
uneaten, they rot on the larder shelf.
Songs arising at the
sources of suffering are the most
intimate expressions of love found or lost - they are
distilled of heady wines of many lives which we
have lived through - a mellow cider liquor to savour,
honouring the past. All memories are held
in cells in the now - how we express ourselves
is up to us, as is the manner of our celebrating ghosts.
Cat prowls the raspberry
canes knowing that
under cover of fallen bark and autumn leaves
is sudden thrill of chase and catch.
Misha Norland
