Grave Faces IX

Time has turned a mass produced painted statue of the Holy Mother into an extraordinary image of endurance.

 

She might not open her eyes and shake her fist at Heaven shouting, "As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!" like Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With the Wind

but she will persevere.

As women have done all through history.

 

 

I've taken her picture before, but when I came across this angel a few days ago I was once again was struck by her delicate beauty.

But how strong the angels are.

To remain immobile, praying for all eternity.

 

 

There is something jaunty about this young fellow.

He's all decked out in a bright ribbon and he's playing a happy song.

I hear him playing the old Shaker hymn, "I Am the Lord of the Dance".

 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he.

This is not an angel.

It is a little girl.

She is smiling to herself remembering some happy moment that she shared with the person whose grave she is tending.

In a moment she will lean down and place the roses by the headstone.

No grief here, just love.

As soon as I spotted this tiny angel I reached down to brush the weeds away and as you can see from the look on her face I woke her up.

 

 

 

Grief doesn't appear to be something that goes away. 

Even after we've trained our minds to think of other things, there's a layer of sorrow beneath the surface of every thought, every action. 

 

But like the tiny angel above I feel as if I am waking up after a difficult year.

 

I'll leave you with this version of "Lord of the Dance".