Weathering the Storm

Dark cloud follows me now,
finger reaching shadows, 
grabbing, 
Only I dodge its grasp.

But the things that don't 
normally bother me
haunt me now.

Swallowing dread,
Hoping 
I reach for sun,
Only it burns,
So I turn to face shadows.

Flashback to the 
moments when
my mother said, 
"Everything you make is ugly."

The reel in my head 
rewinds and plays that phrase
over and over again.
 
Stuck in a moment when
I walked home to 
find my father stripping the wooden chest 
I had lovingly and painstakingly stenciled 
while he said, "I am sorry she just wouldn't shut up.

And now I know what this is about,
chasing demons away
swaying exhaustion
into a depressive phase
I fall.

Black flower enfolds,
sad screams my music,
fighting dark love, the shadow song
Of scorching hot sun

Do I dare to paint
to write
to draw
to make the ugliest things of all?

Fighting
I create
One song
to sing
Spun of velvet cloth
Sopping up sorrows
Of darkest tomorrows
Yes it will be a new day
A different way
In the morrow.