Via Dolorosa #1


In the flow of the gentle river she could only see distortions.

Barely broken by the lazy current the answers she was seeking came and went.

She sat by the river unable to read the riddles, the clues. She only felt the deep pain gnawing at the core of who she was, or rather she felt she was.

Perhaps, the answers that would bring the light of dawn to her broken soul laid at the heart of the river, she wondered.

The water was calling. Cajoling. Tempting. Seducing. She felt the hand of the water caressing her whole body. She so wanted to say yes to the river.

What she was seeking was the fire one can find below, way below the threshold of reality, in the ferocious river, the river that feeds on the pain and despair of humans and in the process, sets them free. Free at last.

Was she not seeking freedom from pain, for ever?

She did not heed the call of the frigid water. She would feel the terror, the body as strung as steel, as hard as granite, as deaf as ice, at the same time a soft voice inside, way down inside, would start singing the gentle gospel song: there is a bright side somewhere.

[all photos by jean-claude]

The cold,

the place she was tied to,

was only grass deep,

just below lied the furnace to be stoked

ready to blaze her world


Vincent Van Gogh, in a letter to his beloved brother Theo remarks that “The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too.” As we know now Vincent’s heart knew mostly storms. He never found out how much light he brought, continues to bring to the crumpled hearts of others. The pearls, that his work is, are shining forth.

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