#54 - Sides

A creative force,

Brush strokes,

The gradual creation

Of something bold.

An idea manifested into form.

But the painter is my mother.

The image, personal and foreign,

Hard for me to comprehend.

And I imagine

It comes from parts of her,

I can never know.

So I stare at the colors, thinking:

What did she feel,

When painting her soul,

Like this?