Angela Bacon-Kidwell

Home by Nightfall Silence ceased for him in 2011 not a whisper, but a relentless roaring thunder molding his spirit into mourning In his misery, a new vaporous malice was brewing the ringing was a warning tinnitus and cancer were converging Every known eradication was pursued He and I, separated by many miles, shared a need for solitude cultivated by lucid country drives We drove separately through the dark districts of our minds invariably contemplating what was to come, a symbiotic transitory landscape emerged and the thunder soared in 2013 Questions, Answers, Questions, Answers Questions, Answers, Questions, Answers Questions, Answers, Questions, Answers all tedious throbbing answers How many miles in a life? What shape is the color grey? When does an echo become whole? During the three years of relentless discord, I created seventy images of these ambiguous queries emoting, sensing, seeking There is a truth in "big" questions with small answers Clarity in the midst of chaos Hope in the face of despair Silence returned for him on May 24, 2014 He was my father