A Picture Worth Painting

I wanted to paint something meaningful,
something that would shock people,
make them think, meditate;
perhaps even call for change.

Something that-
as powerful as a two-edged sword
penetrating joints and marrows-
would speak to their hearts.

I wanted to paint a picture worth painting.

Whether in colour or in lyrics;
so long it was one
that spoke more than a thousand words.

A simple picture coloured
more or less beautifully,
one both old and young could relate to.

But, you see;
I was no artist,
I was no painter,
and I was no writer.

I was a simple girl-
a beggar,
a simpleton;
one who possessed no significant gift,
whose gifts were not wanted,
needed.

And so I could paint nothing.

I simply gave what I could,
what I had,
hoping to get something back.

I gave my body.
And I prayed
it would minister pain.

needed it to.
Perhaps for our rescue..

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