Clary Estes, Flower Portraits

I am looking for the one

who can help me see the world
through both eyes

Scabiosa owerinii

I could think of nothing else,
but to give someone, something

And in the giving
I gave to myself
that which I needed most.

3 / 27

Inula conyza,
Bupleurum falcatum

Speak of your pain
and I will speak of mine.

And perhaps,
in the spaces between
your body
and my own

We will find the parts of ourselves
that only the souls can quietly call out.

I keep hearing
Everything's going to be OK.
She said,

I just don't believe it
Yet.

5 / 27

Astrantia maxima,
Salvia nemorosa,
Knautia montana,
Dianthus cretaceus

You spoke the words
in my mouth

Before they could escape
my lips

and I felt the heart
in my chest
Leave me
for the warmth of yours.

6 / 27

Melilotus officinalis

Never is a place I've been.
It is not so dark as you might expect.
The light of never shines much as it might
on other parts of the earth.

Never is a place I've been.
There is sometimes joy,
sometimes sorrow,
But never is without agenda.

Never is a place I've been.
I found you there
a time or two.
Then others.
Then myself.

But never is a place I've been
more times than never,
but less than forever.

We meet in the basements
Of churches,

Under the eyes
Of people who refuse

To see us.

8 / 27

Filipendula ulmaria

Burning the earth beneath me
I bring it up with my hands

That I might put the bowl
to your lips

And you drink in
The meadow,
So sweet.

9 / 27

Solidago virgaurea,
Epilobium angustifolium,
Scabiosa owerinii,
Salvia nemorosa,
Melilotus officinalis,
Valeriana officinalis,
Knautia montana

I climbed to a lake in the sky
Split in half by two worlds;
Speaking two languages.

It was by the water's edge
that I buried you.

As I descended
I felt an emptiness;
a lightness.

I looked up
Seeing a single wolf
on the precipice

Heading back down towards the world below.
Burning.

Our pain asks us to sit with it
For it is lonely too.

11 / 27

Dianthus cretaceus

A damp morning
sang the song of the horse;
short and high and secret
and rare.

Climbing over the bow of color
in the grey, yellow sky,
Its song dipped and bent
with the north wind
singing chorus in the trees
until it landed in the fields afar.

Good morning,
it sang.
I sing of the colors you cannot see.

12 / 27

Trifolium arvense

Ink on the page,

like blood in the vein.

The souls of trees
are in the sky.

That is why they reach
so high.

14 / 27

Senecio grandidentatus,
Epilobium angustifolium

As summer ascended,
The flowers I gave you
grew wings

And flew away.

15 / 27

Campanula rapunculoides,
Verbascum laxum

I hear the coyotes

scream in the night.

Calling out over the expanse
Filling empty space of cow pastures.
Hello
Where are you?

Coming together through sound and spirit.

Their sounds are so joyous.
So joyous.

They raise my soul up
to the dark skies;
Give me hope.

It is as if they know
When my soul resides below the earth;
When it is trapped within my body;
When it aches
to fly out into the fields
and breath in the damp, tenebrous air.

Then they call.

As I laid beside you
All I really wanted to do

Was touch you.

17 / 27

Gentianopsis ciliata

In her loneliness
She created in him
Someone who was not there.

Seeing flowers
Where there were only
fallen leaves.

She wanted so badly
to apologise
to a spectre who never existed.

18 / 27

Gentiana septemfida

I can not sleep.
I can not help sleeping.

I dream of prison towers
and walking up invisible staircases

Then I wake with eyes dampened.
I can feel the ridges along my brow.

It was so simple.
She had simply
one day
been forgotten.

20 / 27

Woronowia speciosa

They tell me

I escape the world
by running through it.

21 / 27

Geranium sanguineum,
Astrantia maxima

Because
You hung my bouquet
By your door
for too many years.

Because
The petals and the leaves
fell to the floor
with every passing person
and day.

Because
The master's wort
curled in,
became brittle.

Because
The geraniums,
gasped for air
transluscent.

Because
As the sides of your home
fell in
and the winter air made you cold,

And you brought the flowers to me,
ashen and falling around your fingers
saying,

"I did not forget you.
I only laid you down for a time."

Not realising that I too
had become ashen
and fallen.

You did not know
Because you could not feel it.

And you left
So you could not see it.

My long loose hair
Falling to a wood floor.

23 / 27

Leucanthemum vulgare

Then came the day

When she did not want

In her life

The person see used to

Love the most.

24 / 27

Tanacetum macrophyllum

The memory

of being thrown aside

Created in her

a need to outgrow

him

and his pain.

I wish to be seen.
I wish to be unseen.

26 / 27

Potentilla ruprechtii,
Melilotus officinalis,
Securigera varia

He tried again
and failed.

It was not the attempt
that was a failure,

but something else
entirely.

Maybe it is what we try
to give each other.

The hands full of flowers.
The best parts of ourselves.
So that we might be taken in
and make you smile
As we are held with care.

Maybe it hurts.

Maybe it is beautiful,
but wilts away.

Then we return to the fields
of clover and honey and fireweed
before the autumn sets
And we try again.

Running back to our homes
with another gift torn
from the meadow
Of our selves.

Clary Estes
Photographer and Writer

Clary Estes

Clary Estes is a documentary photographer and writer from Central Kentucky who works internationally.

Clary Estes Photographer and Writer

Clary Estes

Clary Estes is a documentary photographer and writer from Central Kentucky who works internationally.

Clary Estes
Photographer and Writer