My spiritual director asked what colors I would use to paint you.
Indigo, brightening in places to cobalt. The deep poignant blue of a summer sky at twilight, what I used to call Maxfield Parrish blue.
Variegated with rich greens for life and fruitfulness. And pricked with reds and oranges, sharp but beautiful cuts.
Mostly I live in solitude, not loneliness. But the painful moments of aloneness come, and they no longer frighten me. You have become a kind of friend.
You are a hollow place inside me, and I meet God in that very emptiness. You are sorrow and loss, you are longing, hunger.
Without you, what art would I make, and who would I be?