Your Masterpiece

The canvas shone,
In the astral glow-
Of the many colors,
And hues-
Merging.

Strokes that stand out,
The brush lines that blend,
The lifeless portrait,
That touches deep-
Into me.

Dipped in red, I held the brush,
And gave a swishing stroke,
Over the subtle yellow shade-
The canvas shone-
A crimson.

The sunbeams touch over,
Soaking in the colors,
And as I watch my budding child,
I find my canvas turn dry-
Crisp and crumpling.

The brightest light showered its fury,
And the astral hues, dulled,
The still born child of mine,
Dried up, soul oozed out-
Lifeless.

Rage filled me up with tears,
And I held the paint palette,
In my hand, a violent shade.
Random swish-swashes-
A step back.

Watching the lifeless portrait
Shine, its bleeding gash
Re-opened.
No, its not hate, nor is it anger,
Its just hurt.

The hurt of giving birth-
To a still born,
And the fury at my fate
Forcing me-
To see you bleed,
Lifeless,
Mutilated.

Artistic license,
A mother's hurt-

Your masterpiece.