Poem of the Week: Canvas of Life

Barbara Clarke, Atlanta Chapter
 

Life’s journey is played out beginning on the upper part of the canvas
bright colors are intermingled at the entrance of a new soul.
Love between us is heightened with hues of a symphony of emotions
when we welcome a new being into our fold.

In times of despair and downtrodden state of affairs
dark cacophony of colors swirl around us and
we strive to live above ordinary circumstances that
drag us down to the bottom of the canvas.

It is the Creator that lives within us that provides
the White Spirit to push on through the grey abyss
of troubles and tribulations that plague us in this canvas life.

When your soul is bleak and the canvas has you stifled
where your creativity seems to have subsided,
you stumble around not being able to bring forth. . . . .

a friend calls with yellow enlightenment and words of promise
encouraging you to pick up your brush and paint pushing through,
you then see the rainbow that shines through friendship
propelling you to move higher up the canvas
breathing life into the continuation of your masterpiece.

The ups and down of canvas life is captured in your journal,
it holds your most heartfelt sentiments and feelings
about this journey you’re treading on. You paint in your journal
expressions and impressions, memoirs as you move on down
the canvas of life. You speak in your journal about the
emotional highs and lows that ebb and flow from living.

When one looks into your journal after you have moved on
into the other realm; gaining insight and a glimpse of the
picture you painted expressing your innermost secrets
and emotions about the canvas of life. They take your memoirs
and hold them in their hearts and keep you alive forevermore
from the picture you created on your journey collage.

It is a way of safekeeping you high up on the canvas
for the picture you painted is held within their view
never forgetting the journey you made
and the love they held for you.

 

Comments

  1. Thank you so very much for the sweet reminder of what our journals will mean even long after we are gone. I wish that I knew the number of pages that I have recorded through the years. They are many, for many years have been downtrodden. However, the Holy White Spirit has been there to wash all of the tears away. We can trust only in Him to get past the dreary times and look forward to the peaceful ones.