Helpless Art
And I realize
Impossible dreams
Keep us alive,
Provide a refuge
From storms outside.
Perhaps I too often
Retreat to dreams
But I want to protect you—
Take you to dark bays
Where the Moon sleeps,
Far from this world
And all its griefs.
But sometimes I feel
I’m drifting away —
An ember on a breeze,
Caught up
To the Moon’s dark seas
And all the pigments
From my dreams
Can’t expunge the bruises
On your lovely face,
Any more than the Moon
Can paint or erase
The black tar
Of centuries
Of stellar waste…
And I grieve my colors,
The spectra
Of a million stars,
Cannot erase
Your pain or your scars.
Mi muy querido @jonjgeddes, me hiciste recordar uno de tus cuentos anteriores donde había una mujer que pintaba un encuentro. A veces tratamos de dibujar, pincelar, describir a un otro que tenemos en mente. Ponerle un rostro, unos ojos. Recuerdo a Cortazar que dice: tu boca que nace por debajo de la que mi mano dibuja. Jugamos, no solo con las letras, también con la pintura a crear mundos, personas. Si me tocara dibujarte, seguro pondría un hombre con cielos infinitos y manos hábiles. Bonita noche.
Gracias, Nancy, pero tu imagen de mí es lo que solo puedo esperar ser :)
Sometimes you just cannot protect those you love from life! Magical words John, strung together by a Master.
True, we can't always protect those we love, @awgbibb, but that instinct runs deep in a man - it seems to be primal
Majestuoso.
Beautiful lines...
Very very very good post. I do like it. Thanks for sharing it
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I think art is never been helpless it's true that they cannot work they cannot talk but they can expose everything.
Art has his own language with that he will talk with all of us