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Chagall self portrait with a clock in front of crucifixion draft
How I disregard most everything in moments of melancholy
Perhaps all the bad needs to be in the shade, scrubbed out but for the shadow
Lingering retinol image, haunting as it links past to present to forever
And how parts of a terrible story are still beautiful, brightly coloured to rest my weary head on
I'm so aware I'm the painter, painting 'what is' but painfully with palette in hand, not painting what could be
There is no gloss, our eyes look at you to decide
I'm trapped within, part of what is a picture made of parts I didn't forget
Though I don't wish it on anyone
Even in the worst moment of time, there is love and there is hope
Some days I gaze upon this image and see beyond it, see what became after that moment
On days like today, the day fades to grey and I carry the load myself, become the load
Somehow everything is at once
The edit is missing
We aren't taking anything one step at a time
It's all thrown together, like this draft
Time may slap me round the face or cheer me on or flee, leaving me unfinished to pass forward burden
Is that how we all got here?
The final sum of each life's weight?
But I don't fade with all of this
Maybe none of this is mine to bear
I should question my choice to stare at it
The fault is the hooks in my skin
Leaking out light
Tethering me here
Making it look like I'm choosing this spot
Copyright ©
Di11y Da11y
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