I try to draw the curtain
on your ominous darkness,
as if emotions can be delegated
to black and white; as if love
can be anything other than
this shadowy meandering –
roots of your uncertainty
roots of my deception –
a tangled path indeed.

(Tuesdays I borrow from Twiiter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

11 thoughts on “Murky”

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