Sing Your Song

On our last day of the training
we listened to a powerful
spoken poem about singing
your own song. (Thank you
Victoria V) I am not
even sure who performed
it or even remember most
of the words, but the message
came through loud and clear
in my painting.

It was a primal poem,
for a primal week in which
I painted completely without
glasses, and mostly with my
hands.

Dark in the roots, well
below the weeds in some
burial of sorts in which
I could re-emerge
elemental.

This painting sure felt
elemental, done with my
finger and by rubbing the paper
onto itself over and over…

Singing my own song.

Yes, it is about
six feet wide and
about four feet high.
Creased and folded
from my suitcase.

Her head dress is a paint
encrusted paper towel.

The song “Cry Me A River” has been
in my head all week and in my voice to
as I sing it mightily to the dogs, don’t know
why, just is.

What song is in your head this week?
Are you singing your song?

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