Pink Ribbons

Instead of trying to reproduce exactly what I see before me, I make more arbitary use of colour to express myself more forcefully ... To express the love of two lovers by the marriage of two complementary colours ... To express the thought of a brow by the radiance of a light tone against a dark background. To express hope by some star. Someone's passion by the radiance of the setting sun."
Vincent van Gogh

I am meeting the women of the plains, of all clans, of all walks of life and they in their own way come to tell their stories. It is written in the depths of their eyes, the lines of their cheeks, the hollows around their mouths. Their caring, their compassion, their passions all dancing like little words across pale parchment. The strength that comes from a place within is carved in the line of their back, straight, proud, true. The weight of not only their world but those they love held on their shoulders poised to look as if it were merely a feather. Whether their knees have folded to bring their chins down, or they stand tall and defiant, they do not break. They bend in the winds, gentle, graceful and more beautiful than anything I have ever seen. As they wove the tales of those they have lost, the courage that puts one foot in front of the other when they thought they could not go on, the love they have an overabundance of to give and share began to appear like myriads of pink ribbons, laced, knotted tied to a frame we call life. When you stand back you see that the hollow center is where they meet ... a dream catcher swaying, darting, blowing in the wind. One that captures all of the nightmares and holds them suspended, incapable of passing through and letting only the sparkle of light in, the glittering jewels of hopes and dreams adding beauty as they embellish what is already a work of art.

Each one has touched me and left behind the caress of who they are, what they believe, and the overflowing of their hearts. I hear them. I see them and they fill me with awe.

Slowly I begin to add my own delicate pink ribbons, weaving them amidst the many that have come before, a small part of those that will follow.