These prints act as an offering to my grief; like clothes hanging on a line or the first daffodil after a long winter or swimming in the lake at night-- moments like these can never last. That is what makes it beautiful; solace is fleeting. A memory becomes an echo of the past; a time from before, when before felt like something tangible. Grief sometimes feels like an object I can hold and yet, its ineffable qualities make it hard to contain. 

Where do I put the grief? 

I put it next to the peonies

I braid it into my hair

I swim with it in lake michigan

I bury it in the garden 

I carry it with me while riding my bike 

I bake it into bread

I mend it into my clothes; 

I set the grief free; I let it become something else, for once.