Watercolour

Introducing
colour to water
offering it up
to blank pages
learning less is better
and gentle strokes
elicit blossoming results

Introducing
colour to water
breathing life into
blank spaces
offering gentleness
to blossoming creativity
reveling in the delight.

(This poem was penned for the Story Circle’s Network
e-poetry group in response to February’s prompt – treasured
moments.”

 

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24 comments

      1. I’m grateful for that.
        This is going to sound strange, since I don’t know you well. My life is complicated, but I receive support from several of my WP friends. I have an especially sensitive task to carry out, early next week, and I will take strength from having met you. That strength will help me to find the wisdom to say the right things.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I am glad to hear that Jane. In my almost sixty years I have been a teacher and a counselor. I am glad that illness has not stripped that of me. We help each other. Be strong – you seem very sensible, and sensitive – a good combination.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I wish you’d been my counselor when I needed one, but I was only 18, and you were still at high school.
        I wasn’t always sensible. I made a bad choice with disastrous results that have reverberated down through the years. I helped to reverse a lot of the damage from that choice, and in doing so I learned to be sensible and sensitive.
        I’m learning to love my enemies. They know not what they do.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Oh, Jane – I judge no one, for I have made many bad choices. When I was first ill and forced to remain in bed (two years) the guilt almost consumed me – writing has helped, and a super therapist – it’s a journey. Sorry I didn’t recognize that we are the same age, lol.

        Liked by 1 person

      5. There are similarities to our stories; I had an illness that kept me bedridden for months; possibly over a year – I lost track. I wouldn’t have been so ill, but the father of my two younger children refused to call medical help. Between us, we have six children. we both have two from previous marriages, and we have another two between us. One night, my eight-year-old found me collapsed on the stairs, so she woke my ten-year old, who called an ambulance.
        That man had care of ‘my two’ and ‘our two’ while I was ill. ‘His two’ were already grown up. Seventeen years later, I left him, and my daughter told me what he had done to her when she was eight. It was his funeral I went to yesterday. His oldest son, who has lived away for many years, must have heard a whisper at the wake. He needs answers, but they will will hurt him. I need to minimise the pain.
        That’s a simplified version… all I can say is, too many people have been damaged by events. I have to forget the guilt and focus on damage limitation. By the time I speak to my stepson I’ll have read up on paedophile psychology, connected the dots between that and childhood abuse (his dad was cruelly abused) and made a list of the ways in which he tried to be a better man.
        Oh dear – maybe you shouldn’t have told me you were a counsellor…

        Liked by 1 person

      6. First breath. As women, we do the best we can, but our lens isn’t always clear. There is no way you would have knowingly submitted your child to this. You are now facing the truth and trying to do damage control. It is better than clinging to denial as many women do. Healing begins when we are willing to face our issues – you are there. Be kind to yourself.

        Liked by 1 person

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