on this bare light bulb;
expose your demons --
the baby, born so bright
and full of color,
trapped into a world
of black and white;
the mother, grieving and insecure,
who never wanted this;
the young ones, helpless to repair
the damage, and so wary;
the ones who whisper
behind her back;
the artist who longs
to turn away and run...
Dare to pull the string.
Drink the shadows, and pour out.
(Please note: none of these images are my own, but were found in a stack of images cut out from old magazines (probably Smithsonians?) as part of a workshop on Soul Collage; I apologize for not being able to credit the original photographer...)
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