Barbara Stallard

I paint to love color
Falling into, drifting over
Skeletons of design
And the moment's desire.

I paint for the square inch
That is perfect as I am not;
To wake and know that inch
Exists raises day to an event
Beyond the habit of being alive.

I paint to order my mind,
Order the chaos of choices,
Standing puddles of mistakes and heartache
Like a baby rubbing blanket ribbon.

I paint to see life through my own eyes,
To be witness to the accident of creation,
To tap what I know but cannot share
Except as prayer, as longing.

I paint so I am not alone in a place
Where being alone is what I must learn,
To share wilderness at a safe distance:
Framed, sealed, hung, propped: half done.