Not Knowing Better
Outside, it is raining.
A slow January drip, complete with clouds.
And here you are, looking out windows
at colors that are not there.
A character flaw perhaps, or perhaps
simply a result of a lifetime fighting demons
with poetry and painting and prayer;
and not knowing better, love.
About this poem
Just another of my “pushing back the depression” poems. Also about the power of imagination. Of hope. Poetry is never about one thing.
The painting is one of mine.