Highly Commended: Painting
Lucy Herd
A waiting glory
“The rain will come eventually – just wait,” Mum says. To which Dad replies, “You’re only saying that because it always has.”
In the waiting, we yearn for life to return, wondering if it ever will. We watch the slow decay of green livingness with an anxious grief. Yet, there is something strangely captivating in a withering leaf. It is here, in the crisping edges and goldening hue of death that we see the exquisite yearning for life that all things hold.
A groaning sort of glory, awaiting new life.