In front of
the easel,
I pause,
paint dripping
from my brush,
a slight shake
of my hand,
something
the canvas
doesn't see.
My head fresh
with ideas,
the bright colors
running through
my veins,
and once
the brush
touches the canvas
my soul
is exposed
and from that place
my world
will be seen
through the
completed picture.
My pain exists
in every stroke
and yet,
I am a strong,
creative,
carefree
artist
who is neither
defined
or excused
by my disability.
Nothing will stop
the desire
that consumes me
and immerses me
into a world
of freedom,
far from that
of the exposed
"Crippled Hippie".
I want my work
to stand
on "its" own,
to be
appreciated
by my fellow
artists
and the patrons
who acknowledge
our existence.
Jupiterjane