The Painter

I do not always have the quiet patience
To wait things out to see where truth is found;
But like the Double Helix in our make up
Life’s elegant enough if we wait ’round.

Solution to the Helix in our make up
Took patient hours and stretching of our thought.
The forefront of the quest had savvy heroes
But in behind there stood the human lot –

Who paid, and made the structure of the system
Which educated those who’d gone before;
Provided infrastructure not much seen now;
Right down to D-day grunt who died in gore.

We like to celebrate the final hero
Who cracks the Helix code and opens doors,
Or sets the flag on hills like Io Jima
We celebrate, then cast about for more.

For each effect there is a cause connected;
Each cause has outcomes sometimes unforeseen;
Life has a causal aspect we can count on
Or multi-causal ones in Helix seen.

Not all have patience deep to stand the waiting
Compassion-persons can, once they catch on.
It takes a while for them to deal with lip-flap
But once they do they out-wait truth in song.

By nature, they are devious and cunning
And all the while demure as one could be;
It’s just that up till then they see no purpose
Except avoiding conflict’s repartee.

They feel the pain of victims they encounter
It overwhelms their beings constantly
But if they have a second gift – a cool one –
They soon come round and act quite valiantly.

Of course, all this is best conducted later,
Once they themselves through conflict days have come
And had the chance to grow up on the inside
’Tis then when clandestine work best is done.

The other aspect needed to consider
Is outlet for their thoughts along the way.
They have a deep desire to sound the trumpet
And find it hard ‘to know, yet not to say’.

Yet once again that’s where their human nature
Can to the rescue come if they’re aware
For art in all its forms provides a channel
To freely talk – be heard by those who care.

It has an added aspect that’s a bonus
This art which useful is with purpose deep;
It lasts beyond its use to pass a message
So future generations then you greet.

It’s also good for passing on a message
Which others cannot bear – too hard for them
By switching round the details, like the context
Of time, and place, and gender – truth still send.

It really doesn’t matter what the medium
One chooses to express oneself so well
Most instances are normal in their meaning
Just once or twice they speak right into hell.

In World War Two they sent communications
By way of words in radio and press
Mixed in with songs and stories quite innocuous
Yet heard by target readers – not the rest.

These days, it’s very easy with the web-net,
Though best at times to say things openly,
(What’s said aloud in emails quite confide-like
Comes ’round to bite your soundly in the seat.)

So best from first to state it in the open
Like messages in songs of World War Three.
When asked, just say, ‘You’re daft – it’s sunset gentle,
And little ones who play down by the sea’.

Now most think all this work not worth the trouble
‘It’s peacetime, heck, what evil do you see?’
They’re right –  but then there’s mini-battles raging
Which crush the life from folks quite ruthlessly.

It takes a while to choose and learn a medium
Until it bends to brain’s proclivity;
But once it does, so folks can get the message
It lets one’s feelings flow quite openly.

The sheep, He said, will hear the voice of shepherd
Not shepherd’s shepherd – that’s too far to see
Communication flows one-way (that’s downward)
From me – to you – to those not known to me.

So rather than control unruly passions
Or truth that dribbles from our lips each day
Perhaps it’s best to find and artful outlet
That lets us speak the open-subtle way.

I heard of research author who wrote fiction
To write reports of research none could bear
She used a context back in time and distance
Then spoke the truth she’d found and held so dear.

It’s good to have and art-form up and working
When one has stuff to say or stress to drop
So let it grow with us while we are searching
For longer-taking truth which evil stops.

Don’t worry what the others think about it
They go away quite quickly I have found
And leave me here to fiddle with my poems
And photo-art, and stories, words in song.

It really doesn’t matter what the medium
Right brain has lots of truth that it can say.
Like light-upon-a-bushel you can’t hide it
When given a chance it seeks the light of day.

But then the awkward problem of our dark-side
That likes to flow out through our pen and brush
If we’ve the courage to let truth flow from us
We get the drop of stress – a bonus plus.

The tap of fingers light on left and right side
Or shifts of eyes the range that one can see
Shifts trauma out of bondage to get processed
And, in so doing, sets the prisoner free.

But now I find that art can also carry
Such freight that right-brain’s storage locker holds
If we’ve the guts to let it flow from in us
Then we can dribble-mouth and be quite bold.

For me the real blessing of this method
Rests in the fact I’m lazy to the core –
No matter what the medium one chooses
The reader brings to artwork half, or more.

That gives me lots of room to shift my play-things
And let my inner thoughts suggest in art;
For often what is helpful to the others
Is what the piece evokes deep in each heart.

But then, our task at base, is people-making
Not us, but giving God some room to move;
So tying up some shoes at move of Spirit
Is risky, raucous fun, and in the groove.