I feel Easter in my soul. It is life, death and rebirth. It begins on Ash Wednesday which brings home the fragile nature of our short stay on this planet.
Some would say life is just decay and rebirth through the cycle of life and death. Easter says it is more, much more. There is a sp[iritual component to life that continues after life.
I know this only because I feel it and I believe that my mother came back and sent me a message from the other side. We don’t just pass by life, we pass on.
Beyond life there is hope. Emily Dickinson defined hope in the first stanza of her famous poem. My mother wrote this poem on tiny scraps of paper. When she died, my hairdresser handed me a book of Emily Dickinson’s poems open to its page. I thought mother had made it up. No it was that wise poet Emily Dickinson, a modern priestess.
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings a tune without the words
And never stops at all
The heart stops, breath stops, but we pass on.
The picture is a poor representation of my painting, “The Resurrection”. The painting is three-dimensional. The canvas was stretched with a cross in the back. The cross intersects in the middle. It shows up here as a white blob, but it is the face of Christ. The image I saw in India. The Yellow is the Green Blade rising in the spring. If you look closely you will see bare branches extending down from the tree of life. The branches have lost their dying leaves which are falling through the purple. The hill is the earth, in the earth there are more leaves and worms, which decay and will help the new life rising again. The cycle of life, the resurrection.