Reflections…

Somehow
she is different…

What
happened in her journey
to the ripe
land of Mexico
where colors
and shapes,
birth and decay
drape your being
like the rich fabrics
and colorful markets
that feed your body and soul?
Is it the light
in her eyes,
reflected in her camera
lenses…

Or the collages
that line the studio
wall
where we find
spirals and meanders
and the rhythms of our hearts?
Is it
the lightness
in her body,
the way she moves and turns
with grace
as if she is leaving
the mouth
of a large
blue and white
urn,
dancing in liquid
sunshine
peering through portals
of smithy fires,
where steel
melts
and bends into
metal delight?
Or is it
me?
Am
I
seeing
her differently,
noticing
what has always
been there?

Am I
seeing
for the first
time
her
pulsing,
radiating
comfort of being,
the way her head tilts,
arms
spread wide open
as she takes flight,
slipping
a magic potion
into my
same everydayness,
so that the world now
vibrates
like an open palette,
a feast
to partake from,
share from,
dance from,
with these reflections
of the light and dark
brilliance
of our
souls…

Lea Goode-Harris©
May 2004

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