Words and images by Robin Sierra

Inspired by The Meadows. An Iranian film

Tearsi am collecting tears. some are in small cerrulean blue glass bottles that are the shape of fish.  some are in square amber bottles that catch the light when the sun comes through my window at the end of day.

many are in battered white plastic buckets with handles….you know, like the ones sitting in your garage, letters worn off, once used to mop the floor and now so full the tears are slipping over the edge, streaming down the sides like a gentle waterfall.

 tears are in silver saucepans once used to cook vegetables and blue enameled soup pots splattered with white speckles…the kind you take camping and set atop a yellow orange fire near but not too near your  tent.

tears are in aluminum cans that once held lentil soup, green beans, evaporated milk.  they are lining shelves that were once bursting with books. (books on how to become more spiritual, be a better person, rid yourelf of psychological pathologies, novels and oracular texts). they are in vitamin bottles and forest green decanters that once were slick with virgin olive oil.  they fill my closet where there used to be sweaters and pants.

Inviting the bellthey are spilling over  tibetan brass bowls, when were struck with a wooden stick, signaled the beginning and ending of meditation and whose meliflous ring rippled through the air until the sound became as thin as an echo.

soon there will not be room for my bed.  i have been collecting these tears for five years. maybe i will be collecting them still when Charon ferries me to the other side of the river.  they are not just mine. they are tears from Syria, from China, from Kentucky.  they are tears from new borns and from elephants.

my socks are soaked.  anyone entering will need rubber boots if they want to stay dry.


A Lost Chorus: Art Heals Grief

 A Lost Chorus by Robin  Sierra

Published in Western North Carolina Woman, 2003

After being married for ten years, my friend Summer realized she had lost herself somewhere along the way. Without noticing, a voice inside her she calls the the “Antique Woman” had begun dominating her thoughts.

Please follow this link to read the whole story http://robinsierra.com/a-lost-chorus-how-art-heals/

Grieving for the Earth

How Fragile We are by Robin Sierra

Painting, mixed media by R. Sierra

I want to share this powerful article about the importance of recognizing, honoring and grieving our feelings about the state of the environment:

The Greatest Danger by Joanna Macy:  “How do we live with the fact that we are destroying our world? What do we make of the loss of glaciers, the melting Arctic, island nations swamped by the sea, widening deserts, and drying farmlands? Because of social taboos, despair at the state of our world and fear for our future are rarely acknowledged. The suppression of despair, like that of any deep recurring response, contributes to the numbing of the psyche.” (to read more see link below)