Beauty from ashes

I take all of my pain

into my hands

and splatter it across a canvas,

hoping to turn all this suffering

into something more

than senseless hurt. 

I write songs

with your name hidden

in between the lines

and I try to live

as though I still see art

in everything around me.

All I see 

when I look at the canvas

is black paint,

surrounded by my deepest hurt.

But perhaps, if I paint long enough,

write just one more poem,

sing just more song, 

I'll end up finding more than this pain.

Perhaps, even if nothing makes sense,

at long last,

maybe there will be 

beauty from all this pain.