out of the ashes

it was a small painting, considering the other massive pieces in the gallery. yet there was something about it that attracted you to it rather than the other lavish artworks. perhaps it was the woman, directly in the centre of the painting. all eyes on her, and her red-toned hair, and her blazing wings, and her body that seemed to move like flames through the path.

her expression was ambiguous, like most infamous painted women were. she had a subtle smile, those supple peach lips parted with wonder. there was some element to it that whispered of curiosity and promised of hunger. yet her eyes did not follow the brush strokes of her mouth; trauma streaked over the space where you would expect nebulas and starlight. they were tired, a veteran of some sort of conflict.

perhaps the war was the burning ship in the background. it took up much of the backdrop of the little painting, so it should have appeared relatively massive. there should have been a sense of grandiosity, the ship’s mast tall and sails flying. but no, it was scorching down, drowning whatever remnants it had into the relentless waters below. an old world left behind.

you wondered if she was a warrior, and that was the reason for her singed feathers. you could see it: her flight over enemies that threatened to pull her down. she must have been brave, you thought. there must have been an innate power within her that terrorised those before her, a power so strong that it brought her out of the ship alive. she was a force to be reckoned with, a flame that never extinguished, despite all the adversities.

her stride away from the vessel was confident and unyielding. a filled body covered in a thin layer of diaphanous silk, walking through the moody air, as though there were clouds above pouring down onto her. but she did not seem to care, only making the falling rain appear like twinkling stars that decorated her clothing, her hair.

you weren’t sure what she was walking towards. all you knew was that, at the forefront, there were the beginnings of flowers blooming against the dark. a green, mythical energy vibrated against the frames of the piece, complementing the woman’s red hue. it was as though, finally, after the stormy waves and whipping winds, she met the earth and greeted nature with her warmth. the juxtaposition: a place between death and life.

but, again, where was she going? what was beyond the flowers? despite the healing hues of the nectar that leaked out of the blossom and ineffably calming foliage, there was no clear destination of it all. for all the woman knew, there could have been a trap. a hunter, so greedy and lustful, pining to capture a mystical phoenix, just waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

you began to question if her vague expression was actually fear. perhaps she was afraid of what was beyond, of the predators and stalkers and thieves, ready to scramble and grab at anything they could from her. this anxiety in your gut, was she feeling it too? or maybe that look in her eyes was sadness. there was something beautiful about it, something that stirred the blood in your veins. was it a look of surrender? but you looked again, at her face, her body, her walk. liberosis embedded itself into every crevice of her. she was free. oh, you realised. she was walking towards you.

so then this freedom… maybe the idea of it was enough to walk through the unknown. any venomous snakes or poisonous vines were nothing compared to that sensation of a clear breath running through your body like electricity. even you would do anything to feel that cool assurance in your chest, your gut, no longer chained down or locked away. the promise of bliss, after the hell within the smokes. you could understand why that woman, alluring and magnetic, would risk it all for that, to finally fly out of the ashes.

a beautiful tragedy, she was. a sad tale of a chase for an oasis, hope gripping to every edge of the page as it turns. but that word: hope. it was enough. it was all she had, all anyone ever had. hope, the flower that bloomed in hearts and gave life to faith, and trust, and love. that woman carried the essence of hope with every step, bringing a new sense of vitality to the environment around her, but also to herself; nature reclaiming itself.

but, despite all the colours and imagery and inspired feelings, in the end, you knew it was just a pretty painting.