The Painting

I've been meaning to post this poem for a while.  

I think it's the first poem I have ever truly written for someone. And that someone is my sister, Kelly. If you don't know Kelly, first of all, you're missing out and you should find out how you can know her(but you can start here). Second of all, you should know that she is very brave. I say she is very brave because she is doing and has done more than I could ever do. That encompasses a whole shitload of stuff, but mainly, for the purposes of this post, I'm talking about making art and going to art school.
 

I'd be lying if I said I wrote this only for her. I was once in her shoes (albeit not as intensely because it was only at the community college level), and I hope I got it right. By it, I mean the whole experience of making art in an institutionalized setting (I think there's a pun in there somewhere...) and having it judged on a daily basis. You get the shit beat out of your creativity and ego and probably more, and in addition to that, you have to keep it together and not have a mental breakdown every day
 

But I digress.
 

I wanted to write a poem that was different for me, but that I could still get right. 

Hopefully I got it right, and hopefully Kelly thinks I'm a little bit more brave by posting this. 

(And special thanks to my sister, Kelly Colligan, for giving me permission to use her art in this post. I love you.Everyone should check out more of her art.)

 

 The Painting
  
I don’t know if I’m an artist
Or a magician.

And I’m tired of hiding
That under the coat
My skin is scraping off.

That when I see you,
Or any human,
I want to eat a piece
So I can resemble the person
I was before
More complete or finished. 

Some days I’m completely asleep,
I feel it slowly
Then all at once.
Shattering.
Ordering the pieces from largest to smallest.
Like a mosaic.
 

Like I meant to do it.
Pulling rabbits from my hat.

I wonder how much I have to destroy
Before I am satisfied.
How many times I must smash myself
Before the picture is whole.