An older piece of work -
That was the summer I painted my flowers.
I spent stifling hot days before blank canvas, brush in hand.
I stroked and defined a garden of beauty that I could no longer see.
My flowers filled that burgeoning space that grew inside;
They spread across my canvas, textured, alive, vibrant
while my world became small, overwhelmed, chaotic.
Slammed doors, raised voices, violent displays – I recognized none of these.
I slid into the paint; petals, leaves, stamens, pollen;
The paint covered; luxuriant in its ability to thickly buffer reality;
My life slowly fell apart as my flowers grew in lush abundance.
Sorrow died. Such glorious displays that flowed from my hand!
I was mindless, in the complete rapture of denial, while I painted.
I created a wild riot of color; each stroke bloomed in my mind,
bright and loud, to mute the blooming riot of wildness in my life.
Copyright 2010 Kimberly Hillard