a warm and welcome place to share words and thoughts

Pain as a muse

I recently viewed a wonderful exhibition of encaustic art, which is the art of using wax as a medium, much in the way oil paints or watercolors are used as a medium. There were several local artists featured, and included with their work was a short biography of themselves as an artist, and where the inspiration came from to create the work they chose to exhibit. And many of them talked of painful times in their lives as the motivation to create, to purge themselves of the depleting emotions they felt. When I first starting writing, I found myself doing that very thing; writing the words in poems to express the hurt and the anger I was working through. It was a very powerful way to help me heal. After I came home from the art exhibit, I realized I hadn’t read some of those first words for a time, and that those emotions need to be shared as well as the joyous ones. Sometimes it helps to look back at where we were, to see how truly far we have come – and I have come a long way from pain to find a place of peace.

Onion Flower

 

Onion – like

Layers peeling away

Petals

Plucked off

One by one

“I feel love, I feel fear”

Hoping for the last petal

To be love

The absolute rawness

Of breaking

Splintering

Into a million tiny pieces

Of emotion

There it is

For all to see

I am naked, exposed

I like the exposure

Feeling the anger

I loosen its grip

Releasing emotion

Speaking

Shouting if I must

Silent and hidden no more

Poison

Insecurity

Is just fear

Masked in a different name

It paralyzes

Like venom from a snake

Unable to move

A helpless prey

So they use you

Sometimes they abuse you

Until the antivenin

Of strength courses through

To counteract

The poison of insecurity

In the Eye

 

I sit with the others

Listening to their stories

Adding tiny words of my own

Then their voices chime in again

The conversation swirls all around me

I am in the eye of this hurricane

Of shared thoughts

Invisible, unnoticed

It is calm where I am

They pay no attention to me

Asking no questions

No concerns

I stay quiet

Letting their windy voices blow on and on

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Comments on: "Pain as a muse" (2)

  1. Writing can be very cathartic. Absolutely helps one heal. Wonderful poetry. Blessings

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