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Ekphrasis on The Painter's Daughters
They sit~
not as muses,
but as morning light caught in linen~
one leaning gently into the other’s calm,
as if sisterhood were
a soft hush between breaths.
The elder holds
a silence far beyond her years,
her fingers a quiet shield
over the other’s fluttering world.
She is stillness, composed, watchful~
a portrait of care before language names it.
The younger rests
wide-eyed, soul blooming,
a child who doesn’t yet know
what it means to be seen.
In her gaze, a question,
in her posture, a trust
only the very young can wear.
Their hair is a spiral of a notebook,
loose thoughts escaping the brush,
stories curling behind ears
too small for the weight
their father’s love will leave behind.
He painted them not to capture,
but to remember~
not daughters,
but moments:
the lean of a head,
the hush of a room,
the pause before childhood
folds itself away.
Copyright ©
Jcb Brul
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