A Work of Art Dies Not

Leonardo da Vinci said, “A beautiful body perishes, but a work of art dies not.”

I read many quotes by this genius when I was doing research for Artania II: The Kidnapped Smile. But this one really spoke to me.

I believe, like da Vinci, that our artistic expression is eternal. It never ages or wrinkles or swells with arthritic pain. When we are creating, we are as free as toddlers running over soft grass or swans taking to flight. Our souls soar, touch the blue of sky and the green of meadow. Our hands become clouds floating in space and our feet dandelions on the wind.

We are beauty and expression.

Living on.

Sharing the hearts of others.

About Laurie: The author of Forests Secrets and Finding Joy as well as The Pharaoh’s Cry, Portal Rift, Persistence of Memory, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky of the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, Laurie Woodward is also a screenwriter who co-authored Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet, and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at Author Laurie Woodward — Next Chapter ia.net Laurie’s Amazon Page

Dementia’s Embrace

Brush your teeth.

Take your bath.

Get dressed.

Give me a kiss goodnight.

Now go to bed.

She’d say nightly with pursed lips that breathed tight tubes of love.

In pink pajamas I’d comply, reaching for an embrace that was kept at arm’s length.

My hair was kept short like a boy’s.

While hers was a mane to be envied. Long and luxurious from curlers, blow dryers, and a hairdresser named Jason.

But untouched. I can never remember running a hand through her hair.

Until now.

That dementia’s decline has taken hold.

I brush her hair.

Give her a bath.

Dress her.

Kiss her forehead.

And put her to bed.

And fold her in embraces that I pray,

Take some of her pain away.

Circle of Four: A Poem

A single coffee sits

Steam rising like

Gentle tornadoes

In a darkened room.

I was alone.

He trotted up on that

White horse

Men always seem to find

Smiles, sweet sweat, embraces,

clutching-clinging

And love.

Then came him,

Wet, slippery, squalling

And gazing,

Those eyes!

Sleepless nights, groggy feedings,

Cooing, crawling, toddling,

And running.

And he galloped about

Steed slowing, armour tarnished.

Shall I polish it for him?

To bulge once again

And perspire in pain once again?

For 3+1 will make us 4.

I gasp: Yes!

I uphold her to the Earth-goddess.

Rejoice with me, my mother!

We have come full circle.

I was alone.

Now there are four.

A circle of four,

Floating above

and greeting

My former self

My solitary soul.

David, Nicholas, and Jessica on her second day

Peace Begins with Children

Just like you, recent events have rocked me to the core. As humanity’s ugly underbelly is exposed with mange and open sores that continue to bleed, I’m seeking hope. For me, it lies with children. I have seen first hand that these innocents desire justice and harmony. I believe children have the power to create profound change in our world. If there is ever to be true peace, it must transcend the generations. But first they must dream of the changes they want. Here are ten creative ideas I’ve used with my students. Let’s all begin the change.