I had two friends reach out recently about hardships they are facing. The kind of hardships that feel so unfair, so unnecessary. Both times I immediately thought of Mary Oliver’s poem, “Hurricane” which I have taken to reading nearly every morning. I’d love to create a new piece inspired by this poem. The painting above is one I created during my January 31 in 31. It’s kind of the general idea of the new painting I’m after, but I’m still thinking it through. Your insights and thoughts are always welcome and very much appreciated!
It didn’t behave
like anything you had
ever imagined. The wind
tore at the trees, the rain
fell for days slant and hard.
The back of the hand
to everything. I watched
the trees bow and their leaves fall
and crawl back into the earth.
As though, that was that.
This was one hurricane
I lived through, the other one
was of a different sort, and
lasted longer. Then
I felt my own leaves giving up and
falling. The back of the hand to
everything. But listen now to what happened
to the actual trees;
toward the end of that summer they
pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.
It was the wrong season, yes,
but they couldn’t stop. They
looked like telephone poles and didn’t
care. And after the leaves came
blossoms. For some things
there are no wrong seasons.
Which is what I dream of for me.
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Written by Denise Hopkins
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