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How could I
June 12, 2017
They say sadness fuels art
but how,
the curlices of my veins filling with this longing,
this hopelessness
, could I ever move,
ever even lift a finger
to flick on the light
much less
form stories and pictures with dripping strokes of ink?
How could I muster
the confidence or the energy
to splash my soul out before me in colorful strokes of pigment?
© Michael H., Mildford, CT
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