“Sharp Joy,” painting by Cathleen Cohen
Tell your version (Isaiah 43:26)
The holy that swims
through my sight
plays tricks,
sends lightning bolts
that shear
the cloth of my vision.
Sky may dim
sooner than I’d counted on,
counting mornings
with the flicker of my brush
across surface
of unblemished page.
What do I mean
to create
with these frothy strokes?
Gold and ruby leaves
scribed on branches
only lighten as they dry,
soft
as my prayers.
No matter how many layers
of blue I wash
across paper,
it can’t convey
how much I love
what’s deep, open
mirror and breath – all
at once.
