canvas

in the middle of the wispy green sea was a canvas.
it sat on a tan easel, day in and day out.
various paints and supplies were scattered around it.
the canvas was a landmark in this small village –
a landmark of memories and personalities.
where the canvas used to be white,
strangers came by with feelings spilling out of their chest
or curiosity holding them by a leash
and dipped brushes and hands and fingers
into acrylic watercolor oil paints
and painted their stories on the white surface.
the clean canvas became a conglomeration
of colors mixing and melding and clashing
till the canvas was more color and paint
than it was a canvas.

in the middle of the wispy green sea was a canvas.
it sat on a tan easel, day in and day out.
when it rained, the paint dripped down in imitation of tears.
when it shined, the paint hardened, absorbing happiness.
and when no more color could be fitted,
the paints disappeared, till there was nothing left
but a canvas on a tan easel,
in the middle of the wispy green sea –
a masterpiece – and a story of raw and painful humanity.

A/N: tried a new form of poetry today 🙂 also… i think this poem symbolizes the fact that we, as individuals, are canvases with paint from people we have met along the way. paint from our families, friends, enemies… these are all colors that mesh together to make our masterpiece.

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