I saw you fall hard and straight to the ground--
harvested, we are told-- destined for the mill, to be stripped of your bark, but somehow you got away. You slipped from the ties that held you to ride on a foreign sea-- a Romany life for a creature once so firmly bound to the earth-- your growth rings brutally displayed. But it could not last forever, the tides brought you back again; I saw you on the gravel beach, pushed by every wave (allied in feeling that you did not belong) until you were quietly abandoned, immobile, to your fate. The last time I was there, you were propped up in the sand-- a plaything for humans on this strange Black Beauty journey of yours-- A driftwood structure on their playland shore. Nancy Christiansen
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AuthorI am a Northwest artist making collages from mulberry papers stamped by hand from original images that I have carved. Archives
April 2024
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