
29/07/2025
In stillness, she met herself again â
cradled by the breath of the land,
surrounded by stone, moss, and sun-warmed soil.
She called upon the element of Earth,
not as something outside her,
but as the very ground she walks, the very matter of her bones.
With each slow, intentional stroke of ochre clay,
she honoured the ancient knowing held in the dirt,
in the roots, in her own body.
The Earth whispered through her fingertips,
reminding her of her wholeness â
feral, fertile, and enough.
This was no performance.
It was presence.
A return to the rhythm of rock and root,
to the language of the land that lives within her.
She wasnât there to be seen.
She was there to feel.
To soften into gravity,
to let the Earth hold her in her becoming.
This was her ceremony.
A sacred remembering.
A reclamation of her place within the body of the Earth â
and the Earth within her.