Drawn in Pencil

I draw myself in pencil;

Delicately,

Uncertainly,

Faintly.

*

A false portrait made to please the critics;

Fearfully,

Cowardly,

Shamefully.

*

Hesitant to make a permanent mark.

Lines wavering at the sound of disapproval -

Ready to erase at any moment;

Swiftly,

Obediently,

Straightly.

*

Young years lost to quiet resentment

Of the canvas I was given;

Regrettably,

Bitterly,

Wishfully.

*

I admire artworks set in stone.

With paint adhered to canvas,

That's sculpted to their bones.

They claim their space in the gallery,

And sit upon their thrones;

Intentionally.

Unapologetically.

Proudly.

*

Entwined with fear and hiding from permanence,

I clutch my pencil;

It's a shield,

It's a mask,

It's safety.

Yet I cannot help but wonder,

If I were to paint in colour,

What would the critics say?

For I'm curious, yet terrified.

Not of the violence or the sin,

But of those subtle disappointments,

Those forced smiles at dinner tables,

The 'I-don't-get-it's and the snarky grins.

I cannot hide this piece forever.

Loved ones are clawing at the truth.

There's hurt hidden in those faded lines,

Of the portrait that I drew.

I long to paint in colour.

If only someone knew,

I want to be more than grey and blue.

But it’s a media I cannot risk,

For what would the critics say to me?

If I were to paint in colour;

Brightly,

Boldly,

…Genuinely?

*

High on confidence,

With one quick motion,

I snap the pencil in two,

And break free from the grey scale shades

Which confined me

To an ever-changing façade

I called identity;

Bravely,

Hopelessly,

Desperately.

*

With no choice but paint and colour,

Palette in hand,

I press the brush to canvas;

Curiously,

Cautiously,

Permanently.

*

With shaky hands and stolen breaths,

I hang the portrait

For all to see,

There, in the gallery;

Truly,

Undeniably,

Me.

*

Now, as the show begins,

The crowds slowly file in.

My art hangs so vulnerably on the walls;

In harmony,

In peace,

In solidarity.

It's there in the boldest hue,

Drawn ever so meticulously;

Colourfully,

Proudly,

Intentionally.

It’s a final copy and a finished work,

And when loved ones ask with best intent;

Awkwardly,

Fearfully,

Bluntly,

What will the critics say?

I'll tell them;

Confidently,

Purposively,

Unwaveringly:

I may not be a masterpiece,

But they shall never

Ever

Erase me.