The wasteland. So bereft the humans and buzzards who remain fight for a morsel of carrion where there is none.
This image reminds me of the year I spent in a black rage. I didn't need to look for morsels to keep the rage aflame, I wore that corpse like a bone coat. I was a long time letting go and don't grieve it's passage. Forewarned is forearmed...I'll never let anyone push me that far again, a wasteland is no place to live. I can change myself, I can't change past events or other people.
"It is easier to gnaw through bone
Than the hide of the heart." ~ Diane Glancy 1941-
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I need to bookmark this post for the next time I forget and think my rage is more important than my serenity and sanity. A wasteland indeed...
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