Today the canvas
Is not of cotton
Fibers covered
In white gesso,
But flesh
With pink
Pigments of
Human skin.
I am not just
An artist,
I am a priestess,
And the
Human being
Before me
Is like
The soul
Before she
Was born,
Trusting,
Naked,
Pure,
And willing
To take
On the
Brush strokes
Of the Divine.
Both of us
Are trusting
The process
Of creation.
Black,
Like the Void.
Peacock Blue,
Gold of the
Pharos,
Orange & Red
Of the flames…
I stood before
And around
The blank canvas,
And allowed
The universe
To speak to me
And we spoke
Of the ideas
We would
Impress the
Form
Of the Divine
With.
Every stroke
Of the brush
And sponge
Would become
Like lines
In a prayer,
Singing to
The world
Words and
Melodies
Of a song
From a
Beloved
To her
Lover.
On her skin
I paint with
The colors
Of the artists palate
And with the energy
Of God
And
Goddess
Divine.
This stroke
Of the sky
Across her belly
Is of hope
Opening in
Her.
That stroke
Of the Phoenix
Is of her
Rebirth
As a woman
Of power,
A child
Of the
Divine.
The Gold
Of core
Of the earth
Is the core
Of us all,
The life
That joins
Us all
To one
Another.
Legs
Painted with
The strength
All women have
But sometimes
Forget
To be grounded
To the Core,
Fire,
Molten,
Going up to the
Crust of the
Earth
Joining in
The womb
Of life
And Love.
Face painted
The blue
Of the night sky
With the silver
White crescent
Luna,
Kisses her
In the third eye
Her Divine gift
To her daughter.
Every stroke
Of colour
Becomes a blessing
Of the gods,
To their
Child.
My hands
Are no longer
Mine,
But theirs,
And together
We paint
With love
Our blessing
On our daughter,
A gift,
To our son,
Her lover.
Together
They are beautiful.
Together
We are beautiful.
