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On the wall it hung for so many years.
It had been regarded lovingly
By so many,
Each with their own interpretation.
A symbol of stability,
The proper mix of color and definition.
An impressionist’s view,
Meaning so many things
To so many people.
The artist that created the work
Left an image of herself
As a symbol of strength,
Disguising hidden emotion,
Signifying a part of her self that all could see,
But few would really know.
For so many years they came
To see it hang on the wall.
A refuge from the struggles of life,
Offering solace to a weary visage.
Lost in the impression,
The imagination offers a world of peace,
Captured from the strength within.
Brushstrokes never changing,
Fixed in stability.
On the canvas the colors faded by time,
Their vividness hidden under a veneer
Of age.
Returning after a period of absence,
To recapture a memory of contentment,
They return to where it once hung,
Finding it turned.
The brushstrokes suddenly do not offer the same sense
Of familiarity and safety once provided.
The impression,
Lost.
They Feel abandoned,
by that which once offered such security.
Uneasiness turns to fear,
As one tries to grasp on to what was,
Failing to see that nothing had changed
But the orientation of the colors,
And the impression created…
Regaining composure,
They look upon it again,
Only to look beyond the surface,
The faded veneer,
To rediscover the vividness
With a newness of impressions.
Open to the mind,
The optimist seizes the moment to find a new peace
In an old friend.
Always knowing that with a turning within the mind,
The picture can remain as it was
In the mind’s eye.
But just as they were able to go on,
Only to return to where it hung,
They needed not depend on its past orientation,
Instead finding the wonder in every new perspective.
With new interpretations comes a world of unknowns,
Left to discover…
Within.
January, 1991