I was a picture frame.
My interchangeable painting
differed for each person.
Hollowed out, I allowed everyone to see
what brought them pleasure.
Different artists painted my canvas.
Heavy-handed brushstrokes of
unnatural hues concealed my true colors.
No longer willing to hide myself,
I break into the gallery,
grab my original art,
recover what is mine.
I dip my rags in turpentine,
scrub my canvas clean
till my knuckles bleed.
My canvas knows it is home,
back in my loving hands.
I paint with bold colors,
splashes of my life.
Poem by Michele Wahlder from her book WALKING BY STARLIGHT – A HEALING JOURNEY THROUGH CANCER
To buy Michele’s Poetry book, click here:
https://www.lifepossibilities.com/products/walking-by-starlight
REFLECTION:
- What does your canvas look like? Stepping back to view it, what do you like about it?
- Is it a canvas you painted?
- Have different artists painted your canvas?
- How can you take back your canvas and paint your colors on it?