“It is just a painting” they said.
But I knew the story behind that piece of art.
After all, it was mine.
Hidden behind the setting sun, was my tearstained face.
Under that coconut tree, was me, squatting on the hill
Looking beyond the horizon as my never-ending tears continued to glide down my rough face,
The tears that pushed me to grab the paintbrush
The constriction in my chest that made me close my eyes and reminisce that event,
That feeling of abandonment which hovered about me when I sat on that hill, by myself.
It was another night of loneliness
Another night of anguish,
One that forever remained in my mind.
The screams, screams I never had comfort for
The wounds, wounds I never treated and eventually worsened
Was I really going to die like that?
As I sat on the hill all by myself,
A strange light suddenly pierced through the darkness,
It was so bright I almost lost my eyesight
Then a voice spoke saying
I’m with you,
I never left you.