My life, this life…
a scattering of
impressionist-ic drips and smears
that never make the canvas.
My life, this life…
A vandalized mosaic
of broken tiles,
discolored and on display
in a ruined museum
where only unadmiring vermin amble,
sightless in the dark.
My life, this life…
An ugly black and white photo,
where the only things in the light and shadow
are predators and prey.
My life, this life…
Misfired pottery that leaks,
or perhaps a clumpy lump of clay
molded by broken fingers,
a child’s misshapen sculpture
used as an ‘ashtray’ in a house where
no one smokes.
My life, this life…
A rainbow’s broken, dissipating arc,
a defiant banner of hope and beauty
across a barren sky and a dying land.
This life, my life….
An imperfect work of art,
bright with colors, rife with rust
laced with cynical hope,
veiled in gossamer trust,
and glued with love as fragile as unpainted seashells
waiting to grow stronger
despite the odd feeling of
emptiness inside.
Beyond Panic 