every day as i do the dishes, by hand, she stands there in front of me -
this odd thrift-store figure of Hildegard of Bingen.
holding the plant she cares for.
life-cycle. nature. medicine.
harp resting nearby.
ready for voice, presence and praise.
i imagine her paintbrush -
or a rock for crushed pigment -
resting in some unseen pocket or sleeve.
creative visions waiting to come to life.
and her simple veil,
the strength of ritual worn daily.
inward prayer, outward faith.
wordlessly, she reminds
within ordinary moments (on repeat)
what has always been
steady and true
on these waves of my life:
art, healing, and faith.