Already

Its not your job to change them.....

     She was made of bits and scraps of paper, colored, white and the occasional black. There was no rhyme or reason to the shape of the bits, but like snowflakes, each seemed to be wrapped in an intriguing and often beguiling pattern that represented beauty and experience. She didn’t make the pieces, they were shaped by others. Not God’s or masters, but artists, each responsible for shaping one or more scraps and then placing them, sometimes harshly and at times with the gentleness and finesse of a mother’s hand, into the collage that was her very being.  The scraps were never glued or pinned at the edges, they were free floating and loose, subject to change with the slightest breeze, but at times, not even a hurricane could dislodge them. This was when she was at her best and happiest. Entropy would cause decay with some of the paper and it seemed the more brightly colored pieces would break down more rapidly while the black scraps would last for what seemed forever, no amount of conviction could force them to fade.

     As this month’s principal artist to the woman, I worked tirelessly in an effort to secure a permanent position in her being.  My strategy was to fabricate our coalescing souls from the finest rag vellum in shades that bled emotion. Violent reds, the deepest purples, oranges that flared and burned at the edges of her black pieces, greens that settled her immutable personality and fed with nurture and acceptance. To avoid the black, I had to listen with a canine’s ear and sniff the air to catch the scent of irrationality and misunderstanding and cloak it in rouge of truth and love. I cut with shears that were sharp and precise and I worked through the night with a passion fed by the desire to make us whole, to finish the masterpiece that would leave her breathless. After a fortnight’s work and before a deep but fitful sleep I stepped back and looked at my creation and smiled. That night, I dreamed of a picnic with crisp soda crackers, the tang of Manchego and the blanket of a full bodied red wine coating my tongue and softening my mind.  She grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes unable to speak, the deep green pieces that I had worked so hard to get just so, deepening into brown and then black. The ivory porcelain I had given to her as skin, grayed and cracked audibly and when she opened her mouth, instead of the cacophony of blues in a sweet spring sky, an ochre dust puffed, whirled and eddied until it enveloped her entire head.

     I awoke abruptly with pain in my heart.  I rushed to my table to look once more at my creation to find nothing more than a small pile of dust and a note scribbled in charcoal.

     I am…..already.

     I threw my shears and paper into the fire and fed for the rest of my days on regret and cold porridge and whispered often to the birds outside my window;

     "She was.....already."

    

Author's Note

"Doooon't go changing......to try to please me" Just sayin'.

Reviews

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

This may be the masterpiece of your lifetime Cee! I am ...already....forever...

[Lorry]

Yes, yes and thricely yes. The greatest art is the freeest (is that even a word?) art and that which captures the imagination without the need for subtle hints and suggestion from the viewer.
Funny how what we once thought perfect brings out the inner critique in us all before long, thinking the frame is a bit too bulky for modern art, or the clothing in the scene too old fashioned. But then, isn't that human nature in today's ever changing society, that what once was perfect, shows flaws in our weary eyes that we once thought of as character?
A very clever piece here Crowley, and I don't know if it's intentional or not, but this could be seen as having a hidden layer regarding people too 😊

[.]

Yes, she was made of bits and scraps of paper... Paper of multiple hues and shapes. I liked the loose end paragraph... Yes she can change with a slight breeze but a storm can fail to move her sometime! She is like that... Unique!
Its a perfect piece... So many great lines with color and combining emotion, even that canine's ear and sniff line... Awesome!

[Chris Shaw]

We are all unique and it simply doesn't work trying to change people to suit our own agenda. Celebrate the differences, clones are unwelcome. Let her colours bleed through on their own natural way. Thank you Crowley.

[emmajoy]

' The scraps were never glued or pinned at the edges, they were free floating and loose, subject to change with the slightest breeze, but at times, not even a hurricane could dislodge them.'

Told previously that this needed careful reading.. done, yes, but still politely amazed at how you created a sublimity as if you owned the word. There's a touch of make belief stirred with passionate and raw imagination.. pleasing self in the process, observing, caring yet carving, cutting yet shaping. But you end with those last three lines. Sad they are: such a tragic loss of laboured and yearned for perfection. Could also be more hidden, perhaps a bewilderment referring to an actual person present or past. Intriguing, bewildering!

[Crowley]

What a great review. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I have tried several times to describe my thought process here, but am having difficulty with clarity. I love people, I love differences, i especially love the stories and lives of women. History has done a fair share of disservice to the wonders that they are. I always have more feeling toward a female character. I guess that’s the best I can say. I’m never at a loss for words except for now…lol. Thank you again.

[Poetic Beauty]

Trying to reshape people to fit our needs doesn’t work. They have pieces or the fiery red and violet purples along with grays and black. We must accept the grays and blacks with all the vibrant hues that accompany a person wholly.

The beauty often is in the those misshapened faded pieces.

I love this whole piece with the colors and the cutting of pieces. It is creative and a brilliant display of how trying to change people doesn’t work.

[Crowley]

Thanks for the awesome review! Hope you are well, its been a hot minute!

[Poetic Beauty]

I am well. No complaints at the moment.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Crowley, you write with a gift that cannot be taught or learned. It just is. In the nooks and crannies of your words, and your soul, I see greatness. Simply that. This is a Pygmalion-like poem with a message that bleeds, cries, whispers. The profound imagery is of what is there and what is not. Colors speak into ears that cannot hear. I congratulate you on the perfection of this work.

[Crowley]

Wow, thank you, that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about my writing. Really appreciate it!!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

You are very welcome.:))5

[sette]

and it is one emotional and heartbreaking poem...

[Crowley]

Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate it!!!