Wandering In The Valley

Wandering in the valley
of long ochre grass,
it is something I pray for,
something cannot do.


For I am buried
in the darkest place,
no wilderness to roam
and no feelings of home.


So what step do I make?
Which earth do I dig?
To release all inside,
so I may live again.


Emptiness in love,
with a man cold as his heart inside.
Where should go?
What shall I do?
When all is now lost and I have no feelings new.


Oh how blind is innocent faith,
Oh how they capture,
What bitterness they they hold.


Blessed is the woman

Who can hold her own.


The Artist. 2005


Hard graphite pencil & etching pen tool burnishing deep on Arches watercolor paper, earth pigments rubbed deep into paper, and finished with thick Iron particles made into a thick paste then eroded into rust using concentrated salt ocean water ending up with a rust barbed wire fence to field of yellow ochre grass.