Holding the painter at arm’s length (a poem)

This started out as a shadorma, but I reworked the first couple of stanzas, which led to what I now have.

Take the brushstrokes you have offered
paint me a new picture
in which everything you feel
capsizes my ship

Every drop of rain that falls down
drowns the earth, grain by grain
spilling into the ocean
that lifts this vessel

It’s no lightweight alchemy brought us here
you, the painter, saving lives
me, the doubter, questioning
everything I embrace—

except the contradiction:

I would kill myself for love
but cannot carry it out
The equation will remain unbalanced
the solution volatile

the painting unfinished

(23 October 2016)

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