The Painting

She turned to painting,
To restrain words,
Words she wanted to holler.

She turned to painting,
To pour her grief,
Praying with every stroke of the brush.

She stopped painting,
She stopped praying,
And resorted to silence.

The incomplete painting lays in a corner,
For years to come,
Waiting for her to discover herself.

And it’s time to complete the painting,
To change the colors of grief to tranquility,
And hang this painting to symbolize the strength she found.

~The End~

An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.


One Comment

Leave a Reply