Then it was about the words that we use to describe these emotions. It was about the way we communicate feelings, the way words emerge from their hiding places in our minds and hearts, tucked away in deep-seated memories. Or as the title suggests, maybe it’s about all of those things that are worthy of poetry, the things that find their way in and out of our lives, the things we live for and hide from, the things that are important enough to care about and write about. Maybe it’s about the way love takes shape in our lives or the way fear casts a long, dark shadow. I think it all depends on where and when the reader is in life. In that way, perhaps it also is about time and the passage of time.

But let me read it a few more times, and I might feel completely differently.

For this series, I decided to travel to my grandparents’ home in Ithaca, N.Y., and spend a few days there with my mother. Both of her parents, my Nana and Gramp, passed away in the last year and I don’t think I ever really took the time to process that loss. In many of the images: my grandparents’ home; the shores of Cayuga Lake, where I used to walk with Nana; Robert H. Treman State Park, where we all used to hike down the gorge and Gramp would take photographs.

I set up my camera, framed a scene and let it go, allowing the lens to drift up toward the sky as the light traced the journey in a single brush stroke. For me it was a chance to revisit places where we shared our time and thoughts, where memories were born and sometimes lost. It was a chance to walk familiar paths and open myself to what might come up.

Zora J. Murff: “If You’re Tired Then Go Take a Nap” by Adrian Matejka