This statue, this sculpture, this piece of art, is how I feel, today, at forty-seven and a half years old. I don’t recall where I grabbed this picture from so I apologize for not crediting whomever the artist (Penny Hardy) is. In addition to music, I also occasionally use artwork, pictures, paintings, photographs, for inspiration when I am writing, something to spark the imagination. There’s a story in every picture, even if that story is from a selfie and the story is that the person was goofing around with the camera.
I feel like the sum of my used parts, worn, a little rusted, a few sharp edges, reconstructed in a different way, put back together wrong, according to what they were before, right though, for what they are now, able to withstand the elements, a form of strength and resilience, stronger for the hunger than I was when I was younger, with a sense of self and direction, humbled by every moment of my continued existence, gears that have found new ways to work, to hold me up, to still be beautiful, to be able to begin to truly own and embody the word, presence and state of being, Woman.
May 22, 2016