Kytka Hilmar has traversed thousands of miles alone on the road, crossing deserts, mountains, canyons, valleys, and all beneath an endless sky. These poems are not memories of the journey — they are the journey.
Yet Brushstrokes of God stands apart from her other collections. Where her words usually run wild and untethered, here they find their rhythm in form: steady quatrains, four-line stanzas shaped like the quiet cadence of footsteps across open ground. There is a deliberateness to this style, a heartbeat within each rhyme, as if the landscapes themselves asked to be spoken this way.
Each piece carries the breath of the places she has witnessed: plains that stretch beyond sight, wild rivers that carve the earth, forests that breathe in quiet shadows, prairies that ripple with wind, cliffs that hold the horizon, and sunlit paths where dust rises like smoke. Through storms and stillness, fire-scarred ground and waters that refuse to be tamed, her words cradle the wild places where solitude becomes a prayer.
Brushstrokes of God is a tribute to the raw beauty of the earth — a map not drawn on paper, but lived in wind and dust, carved by time, and touched by the divine. These poems invite you to travel not just across the land, but deeper into the silence where ancestors walked, where the natural world speaks, and where the presence of God is written in every stone.
