don’t Cheat me out of my Life

dont cheat me I can’t get Kim’s stick tree out of my mind.  I don’ t know why I feel like it’s me, but I do.  When I put the Body Temple aside for the day I thought of going out into the woods to get a stick tree of my own.  But then I realized I wanted to draw it.  I tried to do it with paper and pencil, but it didn’t feel right, so I found the right color blue, started stitching and this is what happened.

don’t cheat me out of my life
Anger sleeps in a hole in My Heart
Land me in Light I have Faith in my Soul
Bury Me deep in a Circle of Stars

12 thoughts on “don’t Cheat me out of my Life

  1. When I worked as a hospice nurse I visited a patient who made his Christmas tree out of fallen branches from his property. Magnificent doesn’t even begin to describe it’s beauty . . . lights of white and ornaments that had meaning. Simplicity, beauty, stunning. The back story behind the tree was special and intimate and perfect. I have always thought of re-creating that tree.

    We all have fallen branches, and bare limbs–and they’d look graceful and welcomed with some simple lights and ornament of meaning. Sorta’ like a heart of scraps . . .

    Happy Holidays! Susie

  2. One of Roger’s favorite things to draw – and this began back when he was in art school, perhaps even before, when he was a boy growing up on a fruit-and-dairy farm in Western NY – are pen-and-ink drawings of bare limbs in silhouette, sticking up past the horizon and into the sky. I’ve seen several of the older drawings and every so often he creates a new one. They’re understated and beautiful, as I imagine Kim’s “stick tree” to be. Reminds me of a line from one of Shakespeare’s sonnets, where he refers to the branches of winter trees as “…bare ruined choirs.” I’ll have to recall which sonnet it is – it’s beautiful and worth reading, perhaps even as the inspiration in some fashion in a pillow (hint for a pillow commission after the holidays are all done!).

  3. Got it – Sonnet #73…

    That time of year thou mayst in me behold
    When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
    Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
    Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
    In me thou seest the twilight of such day
    As after sunset fadeth in the west,
    Which by and by black night doth take away,
    Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
    In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
    That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
    As the death-bed whereon it must expire
    Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.
    This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
    To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

    A beautiful sonnet that says their is beauty in everything, even in things we don’t think of as beautiful…

  4. Maria, your beautiful art would be beyond words if you didn’t also put magical words with the magical pictures. I believe that you have summed up my son’s life with this pillow, his young wife is dying and he is full of anger and fear; and yet there is beauty and hope in both of them also. Just got back from NC visiting them. I love the dark blue with the purple and yellow stitching — light coming out of the darkness. Annie

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