Do our old creations change as we do? Or do we simply learn to see them with new eyes?
I’ve been revisiting my older work, and I found myself stopped by this painting. It’s an acrylic on canvas from around 2007. When I painted it, I was focused on the sense of movement and release, in calligraphy, of something just beginning to take flight.
Looking at it today, it spoke to me in a different language. It inspired this new poem.
‘Ascension’ (2007)
A whisper of blue on a breath of light.
A wing was it, or an exhale.
It is a voice just before it speaks, the moment a hope unfurls.
This painting always felt like pure motion to me, but the poem seems to have found the stillness inside of it. It’s not just the action of a wing, but the quiet, internal feeling of release.
It’s a beautiful reminder that art and poetry are just different languages for the same human truths. The canvas captured the form, but the words, I think, captured the feeling.