The artist is in residence..

The artist is in residence..

Esconced in a warm hut

In the mountains

silence of the bush

interupted by the intermittent drips

of rain on the tin roof.

I have a pile of letters

awaiting me.

 

I slice each one open

carefully

with a sharp knife

lay the envelopes

across the table.

As the papers start to spread

I no longer know which letter

goes with which envelope

emotions run into each other

words weave.

 

I sink into a chair

as I read….

These precious secrets

These messages of love..

I have smiled

I have cried

I am holding

so many beating hearts

in these pages…

I am humbled

I am honoured

I thank you for the trust

as I set out to share

so many distant loves…