Neomarica: The Color of Love


Original painting by Jason Weaver, 2017

In the garden she sat upon a stone,
taking a rest from her daily devoir
to ponder her purpose in the world about her.
She closed her eyes, as she so often did at times like this,
her face turned toward the morning sun,
and ruminated on all that she was not
and all that she would never be.

She remained for a spell in still repose,
when at once a sense a joy took form far within.
It filled into her breast and then out to her limbs,
whereupon it seeped beyond the very limits of her skin.
It was a feeling of deep and intense love,
a love of life and self that she had never known before,
a feeling that shone with the color of love pure.

As this epiphany poured through her
integrating her wholly, inside and out,
she was transformed, from all that she was not
into all that she would ever be –Neomarica,
a radiant garden beauty who had found her true intent,
to illuminate for all the world to see
that a love of life and self is an essential way to be.

By Jason Weaver, 2017

Neomarica Caerulea is a flower species in the Iris family native to the South Americas; The name is derived from ‘neo’ being Greek for ‘new’ and Marica being a Roman nymph’ or ‘fairy’. The tale portrayed in the poem is of my own creation based on a personal experience which occurred during the process of painting this particular flower, which as it happens, grew in my garden.

Original painting by Jason Weaver, Neomarica (2017), acrylic on canvas 100cm x 70cm



In Black and White


There is no solid ground
beneath my feet;
the plates shift
beneath me
and so I step to the next
nary a moment to rest.

Exhausted I am –or
am I?

Perhaps this feeling
is merely a relic of the old skin,
skin that I must slough off;
old consciousness, ego
pulling at me, weighing on me
like lead.

All of the old ways
of seeing this world
are so dichotymous,
so ‘this’ or ‘that’ so bold in
‘black’ or ‘white’ so that
I cannot help but see
how polarized, how
disparate our thinking
has been, how we’ve
chosen our sides and
made our opinions of
who and what was
wrong or right.

But all of these old ways
of being in this world —
they are no longer
beneficial, no longer
useful, no longer
relevant to us at all, and so
they must be
no longer.

I know nothing;
but the earth, it shifts
beneath my feet
and it is plain to see
that so too must I.

by Jason Weaver, 2015