What sower walked over the earth,
which hands sowed
our inward seeds of fire?
they went out from his fists like rainbow curves
to frozen earth, young loam, hot sand,
they will sleep there
greedily, and drink up our lives
and explode it into pieces
for the sake of a sunflower that you haven’t seen
or a thistle head or a chrysanthemum.
Let the young rain of tears come.
Let the calm hands of grief come.
It’s not all as evil as you think.
-Rolf Jacobsen, translated by Robert Bly, from Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart
Photos taken on a Seattle city street where a tiny patch of sunflowers sprouts up between the cement slabs of pavement. The sacred dwells everywhere.
-Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts
the photos are stunning, christine. they make me want to learn how to really use a camera :-)
Thank you Claire, Bette, and Suz. Blessings to each of you, Christine
Really beautiful pics, Chrstine. The last paragraph of the poem has brought tears to my eyes three times now. Very moving.
A special post for YOU today, dear Christine, at http://b-oki.livejournal.com
dear christine, i feel you’ve written this post for me… i’m going to print out this poem and stick on my fridge!! you’ll see why when you read my today’s sacred life post…
bless you for nurturing my somewhat nervous soul, xxx
Thanks eileen, Sue, and Bette! :-)
excellent photography. the petals really do look like flames. so Cinnabar!
i love the last line of his poem.
Oh, this was just beautiful. Wonderful pics.
awesome … my fave flower