Imagine a statue in the midst of an orchard
It is of a young woman, beautiful in simplicity
She sits kneeling with a serene expression and cupped palms lifted up waiting patiently
Her features are soft and the stone is even carved with attention to her dress.
This is how she was, a monument to love found a life restored where there was no hope.
Yet now she is diminished.
Her once gleaming visage is darkened by dust and silt and shade
The soil makes her once serene expression now seem pained and yearning.
Her cupped hands which once seemed eager to receive are now full of that season's fruit,
but the posture seems desperate for those fruits to be received by another.
Her kneel no longer comes across as comfort and grace
Rather, the way she sits on her knees makes one almost wonder if her whole life has been spent in the service of others
The once soft stone features are now crumbling and small pieces of plaster fill the defined creases of her attire
Though beautiful still, this statue seems...
...aged...
...anxious...
...weary...
...empty...
...as if hope was but a candle lit for a moment
And then extinguished.
So she kneels, waiting with patient fervor to be adorned once more with light.