Change/Winter 2014-15 9
The Lost Painting
By M.D.
My life is a painting
I remember childhood,
An exquisite Gauguin, it was.
Vibrant colors filled with happiness
Busy brushstrokes
Twirling me, Spinning me
The breath of troubles a mere myth
Gauguin was full of people, love, and life
I remember teenage years
Life shifted to a sweet Manet
More brushstrokes, soft and swift
Maturity came with responsibility.
Busier, clearer, I got.
Sharp lines, bright future
People filled my life like pieces in a puzzle
The Manet was complete.
I remember ghettos
The world swung ungracefully on it's easel
Paint splatters and messy strokes
Fear settled in like sand in the ocean
Colors began to mix
Whsipers of black paint dripped down the canvas
Broken windows, unlocked doors
The black seeped towards me
Confusion.
I remember the buses
Monet was unclear
Fuzzy doubt swirls in strokes around me
I lose my friends to the black paint
Their faces ghost away
I lose my family to the black paint
I grasp at the straws of sanity
It will be okay. A pure blue sky gives me hope
Monet was beautiful insanity.
I remember the camp.
Wilhelm Busch holds the brush
Dark shades cloud my senses
I become sketcky, streaky
Stretched to breaking point
Black paint covers my hands and runs down my face like tears
I lose my honor
I lose my dignity
I beat others for food
They bleed black
I remember those last days
Heavy brushstrokes, no lines
Everything is a blur of black and blue
I lose my feelings in the haze
I watched my hope limp away.
Black swallows my humanity.
And even if...
Someone finds me
Dusts me off
Praises me
Caresses my past
Promises it is better now
Gives me a new perspective
Above everything, on the wall.
New light.
And even if someone wonders
Who spilled black across the colors
I am still lost.
Pictures Source: Smale, Alison "Swiss Unveil Art Amassed by Dealer in Nazi Era" The New York Times n.p. 27 Nov 2014 Web. 7 Dec. 2014