#6

October 22, 2010 § Leave a comment

Like a statue
She stands before the canvas
Brush in hand.

An artist of emotion,
She is waiting for the world
To begin.

One by one
Generations join the line
To guide her hand

And in time,
The strokes emerge across the page
But she is blind.

Staring blankly
She is deaf to her creations,
She is framed.

Paints in circles
She forgets she paints in circles
When she tries.

Just four walls
When you paint the way she does
Earth is confined,

And color saves.
When sightless, she feels color
And she dives.

Her brush strokes
Her swim strokes, their hand strokes –
Sensations push ahead

But shore lines
Draw nearer to horizon lines
And she’s caught up once again.

Her paint stays
Within the reach of her brush
At any time

But she wonders
What will be left of her the moment
That it dries.

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