by Victoria Twomey

He paints a black leopard hiding in a cave
its two golden eyes dissolving into shadow
 
that you might learn to set your darkness free
 
He paints a wild and riderless pony
traveling the open range
 
that you might seek the meaning of your journey
 
He paints the ominous clouds, the sheets of rain
falling upon the distant gray horizon
 
that you might awaken into now
 
He paints the old brown dog
that will not leave her master’s flowered grave
 
that you might feel the power of devotion
 
He paints the weeping willow, tall and lush
bowing deep with its long green arms
 
that you might learn humility
 
He paints all the bright white snow
that has ever tumbled down upon the waiting earth
 
that you might know you are unique
 
He paints the liquid blue of ocean
where it meets the waiting grains of sand
 
that you might learn to give and take
 
He paints the little speckled bird child
falling through the bony fingers of the trees
 
that you might feel your innate tenderness
 
He paints the endless ribbon of night
with its stippled stars and glowing moon
 
to guide you on your way

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Victoria Twomey is a poet and an artist in equal measure. She has appeared as a featured poet at venues around NY, including the Hecksher Museum of Art, The Poetry Barn, Barnes & Noble, and Borders Books. Her poems have been published in several anthologies, in newspapers and on the web, including Sanctuary Magazine, BigCityLit, PoetryBay, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, the Tipton Poetry Journal and Verse-Virtual. Her poem “Pieta” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.