we cannot be rid of our Shadows,
our Shadows will always lie behind us,
our pasts are Shadows we can't escape
even though the Shadows are not always in sight,
they never leave us
our Shadows, our pasts, are always a part of us,
like in this,
the Shadow of the bird's beak seems to be the beak itself
the outline around this bird resembles a pedestal, raising this dead dove above the ground
the darkness of the bird itself makes you see the Shadows as a part of it
I can hear the waves just beyond
the bird was so beautiful, and now it's dead
I wonder what it looked like flying. . .
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
we cannot be rid of our Shadows,
our Shadows will always lie behind us,
our pasts are Shadows we can't escape
even though the Shadows are not always in sight,
they never leave us
our Shadows, our pasts, are always a part of us,
like in this,
the Shadow of the bird's beak seems to be the beak itself
the outline around this bird resembles a pedestal, raising this dead dove above the ground
the darkness of the bird itself makes you see the Shadows as a part of it
I can hear the waves just beyond
the bird was so beautiful, and now it's dead
I wonder what it looked like flying. . .
I went to the Art Institute of Chicago the other day. I was looking up pieces before I went, and found one that inspired this poem.
"Portrait of a Sea Dove - Dead" by Marsden Hartley.
The URL: http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/65945
Art is so beautiful
