June 14, 2012 5:27am

Well, I am feeling pretty strong about my “launch into cyberspace.” I love to write and this forum seems a good fit. Somehow my blog appears to be grounding me into this experience of loss and renewal. I actually placed a picture or two on my facebook. Lo and behold, in a few days, I had lots of friend requests. My blog was loaded. I took a picture of one of my first paintings in a series entitled, “Black and White and Red All Over.” The painting is called “Wisdom” and features a poem I wrote in 2000.

I started writing and painting when I resigned  from the 300 child welfare agency where I worked as Medical Director. I was overwhelmed with sadness from the stories I had heard from my patients and took some time off.  Much of my creativity involved retelling and digesting of the stories I had heard from my pediatric patients. Wisdom, however, is about the strength you need to survive the deep dark winters of upstate New York. I’ll quote it for you here.

WISDOM     2 /17/00      1:23pm

Wisdom lives in trees growing in rows in an orchard. Black bones bared to weather-January’s mercury did not rise above zero.  These are living trees. They are vines beckoning villagers to be still, to become one, as roots her stick-like fingers cling deeply to an even colder ground. Arms beg the sky, rock me waxing moon. Charred wings lift white and gray.  Ice crystals fall, frozen sculptures mirroring skeletal ribbons. Black rhythm bangs out white, ridden by winter’s rage.                                                     These trees live in an orchard by a road outside our village green and fountain, where a copper girl stands erect.  Her arms arise, branches everbearing buds as suspended capsules slumber awaiting rugged higher light for birth. Jesters believe they are mortal but not so for the immersed know of pink nectar, apple crisp and dumplings, hark the humming buzz the seasonal ring.                                                                        Boughs embalmed in a frozen field off Brimfield just beyond a winding asphalt trail.  Leave Eve with the apple’s core, hear the wailing beckoning us to join the stand. Sweep our limbs into the harsh freeze and grow as the apple tree does. Hard core diminising concentric waves. Live with winter’s fleeting caresses, bones bared to seasonal tides.

Wisdom lives in frozen rows in an orchard by a road that leads to our village

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