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
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.