I actually feel much better now that I’ve made my daily print. I’ve always maintained that making art is healing so it makes sense. A poem of healing to move things along. My brain is fuzzy, but I keep this one taped to the wall of my studio:
Last night, as I was sleeping
by Antonio Machado (trans. Robert Bly)
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk? Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures. Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes. Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart
http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/M/MachadoAnton/LastnightasI/index.html