Blood Iris

A red, powdery layer lies over black clay, in horizontal bands. Above the belly a pleated rim opens, edged with a line of gold. Here and there small flecks of gold sit on the belly. Seen from above, the form opens like a flower.

I know what is happening in the world: war, a warming planet, people fleeing. We read about it, we talk about it, and then we carry on with our day. I do less than I can. That goes for most of us, because everyone has reasons to wait: the problems are big, our own contribution seems small, and there is always something that comes first.

An iris is a beautiful flower. This one is stained by how we behave as humans, and by how I behave. That is why it is called Blood Iris. The gold sits only on the rim and in a few flecks on the belly. The rest is red and black.