I Paint You
I sit hear crying in the chair of my well painted life,
at the drawing that is yours…
Where are your colors?
My three shades of green sing out peace…
until I see your screaming walls of black
While watching you stare blankly into what was,
I am surrounded by what is,
loss that is not mine
this loss I own,
Your sketch is my torment,
Seeking absolution is my canvas
I paint you
By Barbara Tremblay Cipak, Copyrighted
Poem, Suffering from War: For the victims of war, especially the children.
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