Art Moves
Until today, I understood this darkness of the universe before time as we know it to be literal. But as I felt myself being pulled to write after a long week with no power, I began to imagine there was more to her story.
I am curious about what she was grieving. I imagine saltwater tears welling up in her eyes. All-knowing, did she anticipate how much we would disappoint? Or did she hurt, like many parents do, for the aches we would feel in our lifetime?
I can see her carving out valleys and filling streams, healing wounds not yet felt by us. And climbing mountains she built by hand when her sadness turned to anger; higher and higher, she built and climbed, and when she reached the top, she smiled.
In that moment, painting on her canvas the creation below, she studied the shades of yellow and gold that would brighten her sun. And then the pace of her brushstrokes quickened, as she finally knew what she needed to do. She painted such beauty and majesty and then, as she stepped away from the rainbow in her sky to see it stretch far and wide, she took a long sigh.
She felt better knowing the gift of creating was ours too.
You see, in the beauty she created, she knew that when creatures had minds that could imagine, connected to hearts moved by her art, she had given them a way to move through life. And that no matter where the seasons carried them, she would always be within reach.
Art moves us.
“It’s been a long day,” she says.
When I reach up to wipe away her saltwater tears
from her big, blue, beautiful face,
I notice she feels warm to the touch.
Like any kid, I want my mom to be proud.
And like any good mother, I hear her say,
“It’s getting late, honey, and it’s time for bed.”
She hangs the moon, turns on the stars,
and tucks me in, whispering,
“We can do a better job tomorrow.”
Art Moves is the name of Art Beat's first exhibit in Wedgewood-Houston.
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