The lighthouse in reverse – absorbing light,
a thirsty canvas soaking up the paint.
You ask what brought me here?
I wish to put the light back in my life,
is that what you mean?
Like this canvas primed in white,
so quickly obscured…
The darks drift down
painting wet on wet
till all the earlier touches drown;
but some traces of light remain
whimpering between the cracks…
let’s turn it around –
Is this what you mean?
Place a palette knife against the layers
hold it firm and strike it down;
scrape right through to the bone of the matter
a confrontation of your fears;
at first merely a glimmer,
then the perfect light appears!
No, I’m not stranded,
kind of you to ask, in fact,
a kind of clarity beckons,
I sometimes wonder though,
if I can pull that trick again…
Call these ‘the lighthouse years’.
© Robert Burkall Marsh