GROWTH by Karen Friedland

"GROWTH " 10" high x 8" wide

acrylic on canvas

The world was depicted in shades of grey now. My eyes can see nuances, lighter and darker but nothing resembling what colors I see in my memory.  I remember gazing at a blue sky, so beautiful and clear, an umbrella above me that was so often there, I didn't need to give it much thought.  The white clouds light and fluffy looking, ephemeral like illusive fibers that would dissipate between my fingers if I ever had the opportunity to try to grasp them.  The earth that I lay on was a soft cushion of green blades padding me from the hard, red clay earth in the layer below.  Gentle breezes caressed my skin and brought fresh, mild fragrances of plants and flowers, creatures and earth.  My home was a verdant place, alive with growth and decomposition, making room for new life coming.

Now there is mostly decay.  Charred ruins and decimated landscape fill my vision.  Debris is the new terrain, making it treacherous to walk, no street, no earth, no color...

But wait, through the blackness below my feet, I spy an anomaly.  Something that doesn't fit in is peeking up from under a piece of jagged cement.  I can hardly believe  and I bend low to see because it is quite small.  It staggers me with it's intensity and brightness.  I put my face very close to it because it is quite small, tiny even.  I let it fill my vision until it is all I see.  This is it...GROWTH.