Moon (55)

Seeing it first through my studio window and then high over the sea always makes me feel better. There is a certainty about that I cannot claim for myself or my life. The virus has upturned my sense of a continuum. An illusion, I know. Or at least my awareness of it was. Something does continue but not in the way I can know or even guess at. The moon shines regardless. As the sea ebbs and flows. These steadfasts should give us heart.

The sky has turned murky. He won’t walk. The plumber is due soon. So much stuff to do before I can sit down, head cleared to work. So many of the letters mentioned God. We speak the same language but we are not the same. I want to keep the piece simple and yet please her. Each decision is a weighty one. But they can also be light. Can’t it?

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.