A Potrait

A poet is an artist....
painting the most beautiful pictures
with words.

Her eyes were my model,
and this paper my canvas.

Sadness spill across
the painting
interrupting all the joy life brings.

Her words dance around my pen
guiding it's every stroke.

There is no pain comparable,
and my pen, my paper, and I are the witnesses...

and so we begin to paint.

We paint her heart...
full of life and love
yet hurt and broken

Praying to God to repair His child,
to let her love again.

We paint her beauty, her strength
as she praise our God through her troubles,
through her pain.

Though her life will never be the same...

we paint her song...
that she silently sings
a song that only she can hear...

but we can feel,
and my heart pours out to her.

If she were paint,
I'd be the brush
and I'd dance with her...

feeling her embracing her...
loving her....
wishing I too possessed her strength and her beauty.

As she looks over at her son's casket...
a bit of her beauty splash onto everyone in the room,
and we are all touched.

Everyone's life now altered in a tiny way,
by a two year old and his beautiful mother
who danced their way into our hearts.


A poet is an artist....
painting the most beautiful pictures
with words

As I finish up with one more graceful stroke,
the last tear drops...

with them both in the palms of God.
I know she will be alright....

and the painting is complete.


**Dedicated to Kaneesha Jones...In memory of JaKylen Brakebell