The Spattering
I can see the red blood-splatteredwalls of my life. Painted in brush strokes and redwined speckles Covered, as; …I wept frommy heart …I lost my brain …my ears deafenedwith roars …mymouth stuffed making noise but no sense; nonsense No longer able to see; hear, or feel I floundered for answers to
…my unhappiness …my resentments …my pain The key elusive
Soul kept whispering, ‘Know that I amhere and love you! Lay it at my feet. I will heal you, My Child. just lay it down and Youwill find peace’. I looked at my abstract painting calledme. I wiped andwiped up the red splatters I slowly emerged Me.. Not perfect me. But awork in progressme. A newpicture.
byGretha Rose
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