I learned to love to paint. My hands trembled the first time I picked up the brush. The lack of color left my thoughts white and afraid to be coated. Today, as always, I question what my paint palette should be. I wonder what color fancies my heart?
I once dreamed of names for my children in high school, thinking of a man I would marry. So why can I not decide today, what color suits my mind? Does not Calvin weave water into ice cubes and Raina forever lick salt from frothy cheeks? Then my heart should beat blue and spill red.
“Color directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another purposely, to cause vibrations in the soul.”
― Concerning the Spiritual in Art
As I watch a day progress to the blackness of mourning,
I sit trembling
horsehair brush in hand
tickling my heart with story
and dreaming of my friend.
am i not always giving advice
encouragement of sorts
better in everyday existence
and as you succeed
it makes me happy watching you walk away
independently from these arms that strangle
push you down, hold you tight
wrangle dreams from your mind
will would never lose you.
I have been listening to conversations. What would others think of the words you speak? Imagine the reflection you mirror.
Two friends spoke, or rather gossiped together over coffee, “She only works part-time now that she quit her other job.” The other replied, “Really?! Why would she do that? She had such a great job.” “For her kids.”
Life is fleeting. Our values belong in our heart, safe from ravenous wolves. All we take from this life is the love of family and joy from loyal friends.
“Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.” Matthew 7:15
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Eleanor Roosevelt
What will be your heritage? Seek and travel the chosen road.©