language

I make affirmations monthly since as far back as I can remember.
To never smooth out lines, to never pick off broken pieces, to let them be grown into their own beings.
Fluidity in the hands painting, fingertips softly running along lines to blend time.

You can repaint the surface, but I will always know the colors dancing underneath.
Swirling in party dresses and the particular smile acquaintances give each other a few cocktails in.
Souls with secrets that these bodies haven't uncovered yet.
Letting truth pour into diaries on displayed canvases instead.
Once seen by ones heart, can not; will not be seen in any other way.

My promises to myself through dated lined papers of things I must accomplish creatively.
In languages only I know. Not yet vocalized, yet I feel the sounds.
When art is a way we speak through tongues, and as messy as it may be, it is still perceived eloquently.
Each vowel enunciated by a brushstroke, and each word actually spoken is documented.
Even those ones you thought I never heard.
Even the ones I wish I never had.

Tell me though, do I have the colors right?
These pigments are so tainted and I'm just trying to empty my palette before venturing somewhere new.

New Moon. Blank Canvas. Come soon.

-Saree McClaran
Nov-5th-2013