Paint Me

A tableau envisioned time and again erases a fading picture. Time and again I return to look at myself like Dorian Gray. Time and again I’m screaming at that reflection in the mirror, my canvas; who is she, what is she doing, why is she? It’s an existential question. It’s a self-centered point of view. It’s an ache I can not soothe. It’s a loss I can not get over.  How do I break free and take flight in the world passed by me? 

We are products of our times. Children of our coda. We are blank slates mined for youth and commodified for talent we possess. The structure of our existence is not predetermined but the collective construct of productivity a rule, set. Let me fight against its crease. 

We work hard to release ourselves from the trappings of being treated like mere Pavlovians bound only to servitude and misery. To strip ourselves over and over and over again to scream again at the reflections – I am here. See me. Please hear me. Please love me and set me free. 

For the shy ones, the insecure ones, the deeply anxious ones, well, the me ones- when will the inner be satiated. When will I fly higher than I’ve ever flown? When can I look at that reflection and paint the picture in?  I don’t want to fade away. In a world moving so fast, faster than the fastest race, where do I fit in? In a world that wants my daughter and no longer me, where do I get the joy? Who will share it with me? 

And if I trap the joy, convince it to stay with me, how do I not smother it amongst the rest. How can I keep the sparkle there and shine the light on me? To feel the sunshine on your face must be glorious indeed. To feel the glow from joy so resplendent as to make one incandescent in love – what a warmth indeed.  

Let me let my love out. And give it back to me.  See me in the dark and illuminate my way. Take my fade and turn it into care. If I’m a fading classic treat me as precious. If the world has passed me by won’t you stop to nourish me? 

Let me see my true reflection gaze upon the mirror and want to carry me.

I am greater than what I am unlearning. Smarter than feudal bounds.

My dusty print is still worth owning.

Let my love be emptied unto you. 

Let my picture bleed. 

K/

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s