Lauri Jean Crowe

Artist, Writer, Woman, Mother, Healer, Teacher, Biohacker, Gardener, Friend, Entrepreneur

COLLECT #INKTober 2016


Her mirror never reflects the same image twice. Like breaths, she collects them, these visions. Inhale. Exhale. Feel the box expand. Some days with care, some days with ease, muscle memory keeps these bits of herself alive. Often they slip past before she notices, ocean waves, disintegrating like so much sand beneath her feet, consumed by something larger than herself. Other days they grow with the swell, crashing in, whitecaps on cool flesh.

Her mind, body, spirit extend as leaves growing bright and vivid, seek the sun. Never the same, always with a core that echo seasons of what once were and what could be again. This mulch is the story of her life. She collects decay and growth, items for burning, to keep warm when reflection fades and sunlight no longer reaches the depths. Her mirror reflects fire, dragon breath, a magnifying glass to burn away the things she chooses to forget.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on October 3, 2016 by in Uncategorized.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 182 other followers


%d bloggers like this: