It takes courage

to face a blank canvas,
an eerie off-white wash,
which stares at you like a faceless ghost,
a fallen soldier, a lost soul,
when it beckons you to bring it back to life.

It takes courage
To pick up a brush with straining fingers,
and adjust to the feeling of such a tool in your hands
like a young boy when he receives his first pistol,
in which he grows into a soldier and receives his first musket,
an artist experiences a similar emotion
with the knowledge that one holds the power
to affect those around him
with just one instrument.

It takes courage
To pierce your appliance into a pool of paint,
in order to create something beautiful
in the name of art,
just like it takes courage for a soldier,
to penetrate into fresh flesh,
in the name of his country

It takes courage,
To claim that there is art in war,
and war in art.
The battle that goes on between the artist and his paper,
the fight rages on between the soldier and his enemy,
The duel between the artist and himself,
in which he struggles to determine whether to create
something for himself,
or for the world around him,
The dog-fight the soldier undergoes inside himself to decide whether to commit murder,
in the name of his country,
or flee, in the name of his sanity.

An artist is a soldier, a soldier is an artist.

It takes courage,
to accept such a thought.