she was artistic,
unconsciously making everything ravishing
she was poetic,
everything she did was aesthetic
—g.l

Life’s been shining like the sun, in skies so clear and blue,
My mind is light, my spirit bright, my health feels strong and new.
Surrounded by the sweetest souls who lift me when I fall,
Their laughter rings like silver bells—a joy that fills it all.

We’ve shared our secrets, chased our dreams, danced under moonlit skies,
Collected moments, big and small, where happiness resides.
The love I feel within my tribe, so steady, warm, and true—
It’s proof that life’s a miracle unfolding in my view.

I’m grateful for the peaceful mind that once was filled with rain,
For strength within my beating heart, and lightness after pain.
I look into the mirror now and love the me I see—
I’m proud, I’m fierce, I’m beautiful, I’m finally feeling free.

Each breath’s a gift I treasure deep, each sunrise feels brand new,
I taste the sweetness of my days in everything I do.
Thank you, God, for blessing me with laughter, love, and light—
I love my life, I love myself—it all just feels so right.

That was then, this is now. The past is the past,
The pain was a storm, but it didn’t last.
I’ve healed in the sunlight, grown through the rain,
Turned all of my losses to lessons, not pain.

I’m walking in power, with peace in my chest,
No longer chasing what wasn’t my best.
The future feels golden, I’m finally free—
Becoming the version I’m proud now to be.

You Are the Texture

…………………………

~ for all of you,
you, you poet~



Impasto

“is a technique used in painting,
where paint is laid on an area of
the surface thickly, usually thick
enough that the brush or  painting-
knife strokes are visible.

Paint can also be mixed right on
to the canvas. When dry, impasto
provides texture; the paint appears
as if, to be coming out of the canvas.”


<1:47pm>

Cut & Paste

is a technique used in poetry writing,
we refer back to our visions,
heard words,
the eyeful, the earful, scents,
the reads read,
all in the mind’s palette blended,
thickly, but
when

the merging fused,
every word~in~coloration,
it is unique, reincarnation,
copying impossible.

The imagery, cut and pasted from thy heart and soul,
upon canvas,
your poems~pieces each appear

as you-are-texture,
you becoming out of, you,
the canvas.

<2:04pm>


Postscript*
………………

it is not lost on me that the
scars, our words, herein,
as we note all too frequently,
almost casually,
are, can be, those selfsame
words/painting-knife
employed
for our first and foremost canvas we utilize,

ourselves…
our bodies,
our
very selves
salved

"They’re from another country."
"But… they’re people too, aren’t they?"
"Yeah, but not our people."