What You See

What you see are smooth lines and well blended colours,
shapes well defined, with a clear, solid perspective
on a well designed piece of sturdy fabric.

You see what you take the time to see,
and I work so hard to make sure of that.
Reds and golds, silver and blue, sky at night,
bright, shiny stars all quiet and poised.

But what you do not see until you remove the frame
and turn the fabric around, are all the knots and tightly woven threads
that no one now could ever unravel or begin to find their end.
My struggles, my triumphs, my hopes and dreams, disguised
in twists and turns so dense, a forest all my own with no tour guide.

What you see is only half of me, and perhaps it is the reason
for my solitude, a clown dressed in a sparkling suit that covers
the most painful wounds and holes inside my heart and soul.

And so, perhaps what I see of you, the smooth lines and blended colours
of your eyes and smiles, your words and your silences,
they too, are only half of you, all you will let me see.

So around we go, two halves trying to be a whole,
like mimes on a stage too big, too small to grasp
all the gestures that say I too, am lost and have no answers for it all. 


Trudi Ralston.
July 19th, 2016.