JUST A THOUGHT: A Journey
The fractured lines wave
“Hey there! Can you dance?”
I wave back, “Yeah, sure, I’m steady on my feet.”
The colours wobble off into the distance,
have a chat with the frame,
peep round the corner,
clash with an old friend;
“That curl that vanished into the water?
Yesterday. Have you seen it?
I need to lift up the blue sky
that dribbles into the sun.”
No matter. Blue suns can shine
in a yellow sky.
Today the grass is pink
and the trees in my hair go fuzzy.
I’ll paint them straight later.
I can see round eyes
into heads and out of ears
and on these journeys
I notice wonders without end.
We don’t always know the beginnings
of such journeys.
When the sharp things come,
the dark things,
I can paint them back to
far away and turn black into grey
into pink or another matching colour.
Circles and lines
made in a rush of hope,
a scratch against this world
a strike back against the labels
I am what I am
not what you expect
not what you want
not what you hope
but what you need to recognise.
These are my maps.
Can you find yourself?
Do you need help?
There are other maps.
I see the lines, the threads of love
link the carefully stored work in drawers
with the worn cushions caved in against
a shiny wooden arm rest.
A line of love that nestles behind the mugs on the shelf,
that fills the cracks in the door
that decorates a fence for fun.
This line of love runs across
the floor, leaps onto the walls
whirls round a portrait
lassoes the dusty jar of brushes,
makes them jiggle with joy
then catches the elbow
of a passing tea-drinker
and giggles its way up to her mouth
to join the lattice of love-lines that laces every drink.
This line of love draws maps for the soul.
It does not know the settled shoreline.
It’s a leap of faith that fleetingly settles
on canvas or paper and
gives us a glimpse, a marker
on a journey without end.