This poem was inspired by the short story "Wings Chips", by Mavis Gallant
I am the painter's daughter.
Who oversees her words for their colors,
As the grasp of my mother tongue slipped through his brush strokes.
Who shapes her world over her fathers view,
To let his art be cherished.
To watch as faces pass his work,
So as he once walked with me.
I am the painter's daughter.
Who oversees her father.
For his work is cherished as gift,
yet the womb of my mother lies poisoned in crimson.
Her promise of life,
Merely a muse to the artist.
About the Creator
D.D
an aspiring rap artist who does poetry because im cool like that
The Architecture of Return
Returning is not a single moment. It is a construction process, slow and deliberate, built from the inside out. After the storms, after the altitude, after the cost, you find yourself standing in the quiet aftermath with nothing but the truth you’ve earned and the pieces of a life that no longer fits. This is where the real work begins—not in rising, not in surviving, but in building something that can hold you without requiring your disappearance.
By Elisa Wontorcik6 days ago in Poets
Center Stage with Gina C.
*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
By Heather Hubler6 days ago in Interview
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