Its your voice I'm listening for
The gentle tone that brushes against the walls of my mind
Sweeping away conclusions drawn
And patterns formed
When I was left on my own
Inside my head,
Behind this desperate divide.
It's your voice my heart yearns to hear
Tuned to deep vibrations that spell out promises you will not fail to keep.
I am low.
I am low beneath all the "last straws" ,
over all the "once more" ,
"This will pass" platitudes.
I am low.
I am afraid, but I'm listening for your whisper to tell me to rise.
I'm waiting for your strength to bring me to my feet.
Say the word, I'm listening.
Physical therapy didn't end well the other day but art therapy is going just fine. Despite not feeling too artistic, I've completed assignments like painting what my foot looked like when I had the boils on it. Some of my art ii simply painting my notebook pages so I can journal on them later. I like doing that.
The notes talk briefly about how unnatural and deformed it looked. The toes were black and yellow with skin slipping off them. It was quite a sight.
The first piece is done in watercolor and colored pencil. The second piece is watercolor and ink. Both are on 98lb sketchbook paper and are 5.5 x 8.5.
Today, a visitor is bringing my other watercolors so that I have more color choices. I love, love, love Windsor and Newton watercolors which is what I did the second piece in. These little sets of mine work well for travel. I never thought I'd need travel size art for convenience in long-term nursing care but they've turned out to be quite a helpful product. I was introduced to paint pens for watercolor, those have been helpful, too.