I gave three of my brushes a haircut
Then I began drawing with charcoal to find myself
smudging and shading before I dragged the gesso
by brush and finger
Looking at the black and whites in my life
What am I holding on to? What in my stories is "me"?
Swirling amidst the judgements
all black and white and gray
I find shards of cerelean blue with hints of faded cranberry
These are me, too.