Picture Of Grief Poem by Tapiwanaishe Pamacheche

Wreathed in a blanket of despair, colours of grief
Running through the corridors of my mind,
Mauling and dominating
The little sanity left, and
the few words to say left.

I was left alone stirring on
The ambiguity of the absurd
Brushes stroked sharply and
Dedicatedly.
Numbers of strokes I did count,
The years of griefs I did number,
The tears of the paint I did
See,
The ogre feasting on my soul
I did see,
I was in a light the colours reflected the true nature of
An lost being in swarm of lost
Civilization.

I cried a-twice tears flowed briskly and made my brittle skin ductile.
The damaged pores poured a fountain of brine waters.
The magic of art found some meaning,
A sober pain rested and glinted on the sores of pus.

I found sense in pictures of grief.