Our mother

Our mother the earth, knows more of grief than all of us combined. Her cracked skin, chapped skin, her burning and her flooding. 

Mesmerised by her sermon I’m filled with Names of the lost like stones, heavy as a heart beat for the things that don’t heal the way they should, grief needs to be held close like a sister, like she’s your only sister.  her hair braided with wildflowers so tender not even the bees can bring themselves to sip from their dripping nectar, maple dripping to soil, grief soaking into earth

Original painting by Loralee Jade

Raw pigment and oil on paper 

25 x 35 cm

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*By purchasing a Loralee Jade original painting you are committing to a conscious decision to purchase a one of a kind piece of art. We ask that you take the time to carefully make your decision as art works cannot be returned or exchanged.