You are exotic, other-worldly, full of the grace needed to live moment by moment in a world that constantly threatens you with extinction. The wrong temperature, the wrong humidity, the wrong placement, and you will die, too alien for anything but the perfect biosphere.
Like Julian, mothering words of revelation in her cell, you are darkly deep and thoughtful, passionate about the divine that shines from you even as you absorb everything. All the colours, all the light, is held and unified into untold power and wisdom. Flower that is painted as night, all black satin sheen and the patina of starlight.
No wonder men will fall on their knees to try and dig out a piece of you, your roots delving further and further into the other realms in which you truly live, and which we, in our harried hurrying, cannot reach.
text © K Dibbens-Wyatt Photo from Pixabay
Black is so beautiful, a contradiction as it simultaneously hugs all the light into itself and yet is also the shiniest colour there is. I can never see a black beetle without thinking of Small in Winnie-the-Pooh and how everyone went looking for him when he was lost, even though he was so tiny. Poor Eeyore was looking for an extra two days as no-one thought to tell him the little insect had been found. “That’s just what would happen,” he says.
Black is often used to illustrate what it missing, maybe because it can seem like emptiness, the space between stars, the depth of depression (something else Eeyore knows about) and the background to everything light. To me, black is a generous colour, because it makes the light brighter at its own expense, and it is kind to everyone. Who doesn’t look good in a little black dress or tuxedo?
text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017