Sadness

I can draw happiness.
I know how passion manifests for me.
Hope has a specific color.
Anger is a forte in my work.
Lust is ever present in my brush and pencil.

But I don’t know how to paint sadness.
I try and try and try, but there is no image
For such a devastating feeling.
I brainstorm form and color for raw humanity
But nothing looks like that being.
How do you draw, paint, sculpt, print, color, etch, photograph sadness?

I’d really like to know.
If I could create sadness, it would become something outside of me,
Not twisting and clawing to out,
But asking for acceptance and recognition from the anonymous.
Sadness would not be mine, but ours, there in the world,
Not just my perceptions.
And I could say, so THAT’S what it looks like,
Feeling somehow complete by my ability to define this creature.

Suddenly, when I feel its looming blindness setting in,
I can remind myself of its physique, its smile, its posture,
And it will be like visiting an old friend.
We will converse, and part ways,
And I will not be haunted by name of him,
Just on the tip of my tongue,
Always out of reach.



CLR