My daughter just started ballet last week. For someone so young, she has walked through more loss than most, losing her mother to cancer at only 5 years old. I had the blessing of stepping into that role, and every day I watch her grow into a young woman who is strong, free, and full of light.
When I see her twirling in the living room, proud of her new leotard, content that her only classmate was an older woman, and joyfully showing off each new step, what I really see is a flower blossoming. A single poppy rising bold and bright in a field of decay, carrying beauty where the world feels broken.
The poppy is a symbol of resilience, of hope in the midst of devastation. “In Flanders Fields,” the WWI poem, depicts them as sparks of beauty among the crosses in soil heavy with grief and dead soldiers.
It’s easy to feel crushed by the chaos and sorrow of this world. But my daughter is a poppy among the grave of her own grief. She reminds me that beauty can still bloom. That even in loss, joy can dance.
She gives me hope and strength. She is free to be happy, to get lost in movement, and to bloom into the joy of being who she was meant to be.
This piece is a reminder that even amongst devastation and soil filled with decay, poppies will bloom.
30x48 | Mixed Media + Oil on Gallery Wrapped Canvas wired and ready to hang
My daughter just started ballet last week. For someone so young, she has walked through more loss than most, losing her mother to cancer at only 5 years old. I had the blessing of stepping into that role, and every day I watch her grow into a young woman who is strong, free, and full of light.
When I see her twirling in the living room, proud of her new leotard, content that her only classmate was an older woman, and joyfully showing off each new step, what I really see is a flower blossoming. A single poppy rising bold and bright in a field of decay, carrying beauty where the world feels broken.
The poppy is a symbol of resilience, of hope in the midst of devastation. “In Flanders Fields,” the WWI poem, depicts them as sparks of beauty among the crosses in soil heavy with grief and dead soldiers.
It’s easy to feel crushed by the chaos and sorrow of this world. But my daughter is a poppy among the grave of her own grief. She reminds me that beauty can still bloom. That even in loss, joy can dance.
She gives me hope and strength. She is free to be happy, to get lost in movement, and to bloom into the joy of being who she was meant to be.
This piece is a reminder that even amongst devastation and soil filled with decay, poppies will bloom.
30x48 | Mixed Media + Oil on Gallery Wrapped Canvas wired and ready to hang