![]() SheA Poem by denise![]() an awakening of a woman![]() “And the Day Came when the Risk to
Remain in a Tight Bud was more Painful Than the Risk it took to Blossom” -
Anais Nin She was an empty sketch, hollow, vacant, cavernous. She had
once been resplendent, expressive, rich in detail This woman had been a vividly alive at one
point, but then she had let the pain, others control her, slowly dragging her
down And so she
protected herself, she let herself become concerned with appearance, her unconventional
lines and riot of living colour. She felt
vulnerable about the texture that comprised her depths. So,.... she cloaked herself and her
life, she retreated, and she ended up looking like everyone else. She
“fitted in”, she “blended”, was bland, and never let herself get carried away anymore She became
neat and boringly acceptable and she never let herself stray outside the lines
of the sketch with her previous abandon, and unquenchable desire for more. She forgot
to live, she forgot to paint, she forgot to colour But this
life was slowly beginning to kill her. She was no
longer a colour, she was brown, She was withering, She was dying inside. She never
really fitted in like everyone else, "and it was only when she died, she began
to wonder if she should have even tried, why she had tried to be “nothing”. Then she was reborn through pain, through
chance, through a trick of cruel fate that changed her body, and that hope grew
and flickered to life. This woman woke up and realized that no matter how
different she was sometimes"this was who she was, who she should be. Fighting
her rebirth, was never an option, only compliance. Fighting
would have only brought disaster, acceptance brought hope. And she
was sure of that now"she knew she couldn’t be anything else. She would always
be the abstract, the offbeat, the unorthodox riot. So she
turned her back on routine, the set patterns of indistinct hues, she became the
sketch ready again for the iridescent tones, the irregular lines, the wild
strokes. Never to
sleep again. She set
off on a journey to live"to colour herself with as much living as possible. To create
a kaleidoscope of life, She
grasped the opportunities, she opened up to strangers, she infected everyone she could with the message of living not just
existing She laughed,
she hurt, she cried, she lived. She didn’t
care for opinions of others; she painted her sketch with passion, with her
essence It was a
picture meant only for her approval, not for the general masses. She knew
her sketch, her art, her story, her essence, was in general not what others
would appreciate. They would
see her as too abstract, too strange, too unrelateable. She would
not fit within their lines. Very few
would recognise the light in her colours, or appreciate the depth of her soul,
or the meaning of her texture. And most
wouldn’t ever take the time to explore the hidden recesses and caves in her
landscape. She knew
that she was different, that she was unusual, an acquired taste, and only those
open to life in all its complexities, would seek to fully understand her. She did
not care to seek approval. She is calm
now, basking in her essence, ready and open for whatever life may bring her "
her passion simmers waiting, alert and expectant, but ready and receptive. The texture
of her soul pulses with life, crimson and bloody but vital and resilient. She
lives.... © 2018 deniseReviews
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