The artist cannot see beyond her sphere
of reds and rusts which bleed from life’s pained heart.
The colors scream their silent song of fear
pretending nothing hurs; life ala carte.
I paint within the limits of my life;
a smorgasbord of unappealing hues.
A canvas lacking any two toned strife
which blooms the rose from winter’s whites and blues.
I don’t know when the picture window clears
to let in light beyond the shadowed cold;
unmasking fettered sight from unmarked tears
as passion’s pain breaks free of death’s stronghold.
Please teach me how to love as life goes on
in time, the duckling may become a swan.