_after the funeral

Blinding the clocks. Painting over our mistakes with future failures. Pretending we can hide from time. We see her ghost moving through these fields, creating light in the darkness. A voice of silence tells us we were here before, as drifters and dreams. We are crying like a new day. We grow Heaven in scorched earth. We harvest memories of lost years. We move through blind color. The sound of the sun echoes through all things. Your last breath is your first.


After The Funeral is the first chapter of Near To The Wild Heart. The series was photographed after my grandmother’s funeral. Following the ceremony a lush field of wildflowers had bloomed near the house where she lived.