colors, mismatched, shade my dreams while my
thoughts are hued in mistaken brilliance, and
often muted, tainted with hesitant
identity, are those words I would write
upon a canvas bare, those memories
I would scribe upon the sunlit sky
or the blanket of night and moon...
I wonder if I truly paint what I
wish for words to say or do they
simply lay there in silence, uncertain
of their own place in life and time,
and do I have the right to lessen
their importance if this is true?
I have walked through daylight's honesty
and drifted past truth in deepest slumber,
where all appears in silhouette, where
all is brushed clean of disguised perception,
where all is transparent, fluid
and lucid, and yet I can find no answer
to my question, no assurance that
I do the words justice and honor, so
perhaps I shall leave this for the words
to decide and be grateful that they
trust me enough to give me a chance
to prove I am worthy of their gift,
of their trust, and their unrelenting
faith in the honesty of a writer...
simply trying to find her place in the world.
written for the Simplicity SFITB challenge
host: Pam (whispermoon)
phrase with blank filled: in deepest slumber, where all appears in silhouette
By Myrna D.
© 2012 Myrna D.
(All rights reserved)