The Canvas

 

There is a composition unlike any other
in perfect harmony
that only its artist could create,
without duplication,
stipulation,
colored to perfection.
This is the canvas of my soul,
in hues of purple and pink,
with hints of mint and greens
splashed to run against the light.
There is a sanctuary
upon the curves and lengths of its frame,
so full of imagery,
of love,
of a silent language spoken from the heart.
There is an arrangement of places,
among the horizon
that landscape the shapes,
shades,
mosaic of my thoughts.
There are feelings covering its values
and depth painted in the chromatic of truth
proportionally expressing all there is.
And, somewhere in its tones
there is undeniably the casting of faith
grasping to the atmosphere swimming
in a composition of integrity and serenity.
This is the canvas of my spirit,
with all its illustration,
a Renaissance of antiquities,
that lies deeply only in me
while the Creator watches
and smiles at His one-and-only masterpiece.

Colors of Us

Love is a privilege given to all

to take

or not.

Your call this morning

yanked me out of sweet sleep.

Your first words,

“I love you.  I miss you”

woke me like a bucket of cold water

splattered

against my warm body…

I stopped you,

halting all of your jabbing

slurring into the morning light.

You needed to be heard

and when you finished

the mumble jumble of puzzled words

I hung up to wash you off my spirit.

I stood in a hot steaming shower,

placed my face against the cold tile

as the water scolded me

and I stared at the smoke rising

realizing the difference between us:

I think in colors, pretty shapes, and music.

You think in darkness, straight lines and equations.

I need you to release the colors I placed

in your heart a while ago.

Let me have my love back.

I can’t breathe without that return.

My colors obviously cannot light

the gloom you continue to carry,

but I will always love you

more than the privilege deserves.

Color of Love

La14369904_1232138466845009_9125259672147867287_nst night Kali wanted her nails painted. This morning sitting outside with her she told me that green was now her favorite color. It used to be purple. I sat there holding her gorgeous hands out and the mere thought came through that to her she isn’t darker than me or her father.  We are all one color.  There’s no distinction between one or the other.
The world is in a constant battle over colors: skin colors, political colors, colors of flags and boundaries, religious colors, etc. It’s exhausting! But, here on my porch there is only one color that we teach this new generation: the color of love.

We are one race. We are one world. The skin color is our adornment. It’s a gorgeous tattoo from the universe to wear for all of a single lifetime. Embrace your fabulous-ness and awesomeness. God don’t make no junk.  You get to decide how you act and react in this world.  You get to decide the judgment and criticism you give and take.  You get to decide if you participate in the discrimination of humanity.  The questions are endless: How do you color your world?  What color is your love?  What color is your soul?  What does your skin pigmentation determine your conscious awareness of empathy?

I told her this morning when she said that now her favorite color is green like mommy’s that I had a favorite one too and that it was the color of love. And that one comes in every shade of the rainbow and magic. She smiled and exclaimed in excitement, “Coooooolllll!!!! My favorite too!”

 

The Brokenness is Good

crayons

The other day at a store I saw a sign that read, “Even broken crayons still color.” I had to stop for a second…or two…maybe a few minutes pondering on that statement. I stood there in a busy isle of a department store taking up space with my eyes closed as I repeated each word out loud.  It was one of those powerful AHA moments that anyone can witness looking at you.  I was having an epiphany and two other ladies in the same isle stood staring at the same sign.  And, even though none of us spoke, we each took with us something from those words.

How many times haven’t we shattered into million pieces? How many times haven’t we believed, in that state of desperation, that we have no shine; that we aren’t worth it; that life is over in that brokenness? Those small fragments in us mend and expand; they break and create new extremities to bridge the old with the new. They make us stronger, wiser, and graceful. They force us to reinvent ourselves, forgive, and learn to play. I, for one, am grateful for those broken pieces…all the tiny ones that can be picked and put together to create a new life. They have allowed my colors to bleed into other brighter ones and combined to make new hues so I can go out into the world and paint for me.

I left the store without a single item.  I left with the quote imprinted in me.  As I was walking out the door there were coloring books on display with boxes of crayons.  I smiled.  I courageously walked with my head held high.  I’ve been just like those coloring books for so long…restricted to lines and rules of social expectations.  Now I am ready to paint the world in a different light no matter how small or large the breaks are in the future.

Paint your world today with those little pieces you think of discarding! Color, laugh, cry and rejoice for being the most perfect version of you.  You will be made whole again. You are bright, beautiful and…oh…so very creative! Mucho love in this beautiful holiday week.  Give yourself the gift of exploration and play. Don’t keep putting it off!!!

Window

Morning at my Window
Morning at my Window

The wind graciously dances

with the chimes

as the water swirls,

ripples,

and indents the pond.

Blue and mauve streaks

echo in the distance sky.

The sun magnifies the

gold,

green,

gray, and

frigid

hues on the mountain.

What kind of day will this be?

The coldness chills

every part of my body

and I can’t seem to move

but only watch,

witness, and enlightened

through the voyeurism

from my bedroom.

What I would give

to be a bird right now

and soar over all this land

so that my wings

could touch the entrance

of Heaven

and I would be….