February 5, 2015 The day before Diane’s birthday. She would have been 32. I cry out in the night, sobbing, keening with no tears. Your physical body is gone. I am your mother – you were once part of me. Now you are spirit, small comfort to a grieving mother. I create a woman of clay – she is bent over, down on the ground, covering her face with her hands. Sobbing into a stream made of of paper, surrounded by rocks and shells. Yet an arbor of grace protects her – spirit, soft and feathery, hanging down. She is in the midst of grief, yet there is space in front of her and behind her. She will move through it.
“Weeping Woman” by Marie Temple, February 2015
Clay, wire, paper, yarn, stones, dried stems and leaves, sea shells, and hot glue on wood
Photos by Lois Trusler