Fissures

She'd learned a long time ago not to try to fill in the cracks. Maintaining a veneer just wasn't worth the time and effort; she was what she was, and anyone who minded could just go whistle up the tracks. She cared deeply, and all that caring left deep fissures in her soul; crevasses in the rock of her being, rough places that she took a certain pride in not hiding.

She liked to think that the structures she'd built across the ravines made them beautiful; that the tears which had brought rivers and cascades to her landscape had also nurtured the abundant wildflowers. She'd decorated herself from adversity; she wasn't pretty, but she had a presence that was undeniable.

Every blow had made her stronger; she loved them all for that.

© 2009 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, Swarovski crystals and components, ceramic by Lean Dog Pottery. Hand fabricated.