May Sway

May 28, 2022. I live in Texas, blessed with beautiful Spring weather and cursed with polarization on many fronts political. Among the blessings I count regularly are the extended bed of crinums alongside my driveway: thick luscious foliage (until a hard freeze sends their energies underground to wait for a warming trend) and some amazing lily blooms in shades of pink. Blooms are most prolific in May, following Spring resurgence of foliage. I’ve been out amongst the crinums often this month, camera in hand.

These last few days I’ve been in anguish over yet another indicator of growing polarization in this state, this country. Yet another school shooting not very far away, and I am again feeling inept at making any difference in the future of this state, this country, this human population of the planet. Today I turned to a meditative practice that helps me level out emotions and let-be what-is: this imperfect world. My practice is digital collaging, a time-consuming focus-demanding endeavor. I worked with recent crinum images, and this poem emerged bit by bit as blooms fit together bit by bit.

Hoping you enjoy the imagery. Hoping we find ways to encourage compromise for the good of all.

14 thoughts on “May Sway

  1. Beautiful. As long as there are crinums and tomatoes and poets, there may be some hope for humanity, although right now it’s hard to see it. Thank you.

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  2. Beautiful image and words. I have been thinking of all of the Circle sisters in Texas as we in Canada hear about the children dying in Uvalde. Feeling helpless to protect. Thanks for your thoughts.

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    1. Sarah, thank you – the Uvalde story is a nagging heart-break – for those lost, even more so for those who remain to cope with the loss, cope with what [anything?] they could’ve done to prevent it. Politicians are pointing fingers at Uvalde police, and my instincts scream NO FAIR! We are all so ingrained in justifying whatever we choose to believe. [I feel justified in my skepticism.]


  3. Thank you for your words and the lovely collage. We must nourish ourselves before we can nourish others…and if the world was full of nourishment, maybe, just maybe the violence would stop. Also, I want to thank you for helping me identify a blooming plant that my mother left me when she died. I think it is the same type of plant, but the blooms are white and they are blooming now.

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    1. Betty, thank you – and cool that you have white crinums! After I got my pink ones (from my mother!) I acquired several other varieties, including a white one. Only the white one proved as hardy as my pinks. Years later I needed to thin them – did it before blooming – took bundles of crinum plants to various friends. A friend ended up with white blooms. I’d not meant to give that one away! [Should you want some pink companions, let me know – should’ve thinned again this Spring, almost surely will next year.]


  4. Gorgeous collage! And your poem, from a petals perspective, offers both solace and warning. Wonderful to read your thoughts, Jazz, thank you – this tragedy is something I can’t write about yet.

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