The ache of a sorrowing day....

My Winged Soul

mixed media canvas~j. N-L

Today has been one long ache... a day filled with soul-ache, heart-ache and head- ache.

When the ache began to numb my being, I stood in our backyard and endured the needle cold prick of pelting rain on my face and arms. It felt good to remember that I am in fact, alive.

Standing there next to our towering fir, I listened as the whipping wind blew through tree boughs that have endured far more than I, and I recalled this poem from my youth.

Oh so beautiful and easy to read....

THE ARBOUR
Anne Bronte (1820-1849)

I'll rest me in this sheltered bower,
And look upon the clear blue sky
That smiles upon me through the trees,
Which stand so thick clustering by;

And view their green and glossy leaves,
All glistening in the sunshine fair;
And list the rustling of their boughs,
So softly whispering through the air.

And while my ear drinks in the sound,
My winged soul shall fly away;
Reviewing lone departed years
As one mild, beaming, autumn day;

And soaring on to future scenes,
Like hills and woods, and valleys green,
All basking in the summer's sun,
But distant still, and dimly seen.

Oh, list! 'tis summer's very breath
That gently shakes the rustling trees--
But look! the snow is on the ground--
How can I think of scenes like these?

'Tis but the frost that clears the air,
And gives the sky that lovely blue;
They're smiling in a winter's sun,
Those evergreens of sombre hue.

And winter's chill is on my heart--
How can I dream of future bliss?
How can my spirit soar away,
Confined by such a chain as this?