A sleeping, walking child
she took four steps today
I completed my sonnet
I completed my collage
I walked outside in the daytime
and didn’t have a panic attack.
We buy our house tomorrow
I will have a studio again
I will have peace again
I’m not running away,
I’m moving on with my life.
No more main road
I can responsibly adopt a cat
I can create my new garden of Eve-
herbs, flowers and vegetables Jerusalem
Artichokes, garlic, onions, mint, sage
Marigolds and mammoth sunflowers, my sedum collection.
I took my daughter and my Canon out for a walk in the knee high snow.
I took photographs of my swamp that I will leave
The house, I will thank for its temporary tiny refuge
The garage for holding a third of my studio in stasis as I healed.
I can’t make big flowers again until my back regains some of its strength.
Even then, my work will change, because I am not the same frightened woman from 18 years ago.
I model, I draw, I create encaustic paintings, I carve plaster, I cast plaster, I make glass beads,
I enamel, I carve alabaster, I make collages, I document through photos, I write, I sing, I repouseé,
I will have room to do yoga again, I hammer metal, I will be a metalsmith again. Almost whole, I will become me.