"Possession"

by Lianne Olive Hennig
 

Colours dabbed upon a board, all freshly wet, and
Still upon an easel stored until they set.
The smell of oils and pigment fill the air and
Brushes dipped in turpentine still sit, while
I stand before the easel just to stare and
Wonder how I accomplished it.

A surface, white, is daunting to the eye.
You wonder how you might try to begin and
Yet you feel you must begin to try, and
So you start to do the “filling in” -

Yellow ochre splurged upon the board; 
Splot a bit of burnt sierra in; a spot of black, the “picture” can afford
And, next to that, some vibrant emerald green.

A mass of colours forms before my eyes -
A casual glance does not show what they are.
The picture shaped could well be a surprise, 
Like landing on some strange and distant star -

The whole star fills your scope of vision
Before you land upon its foreign shore, but
Until you voyage to complete your mission
You cannot tell what its surface has in store.

Experience a moment’s hesitation
Before you fill another white patch in,
To spare a momentary desolation when
A spot you meant to “smile” begins to “grin.”

Though my fingers dabble brushes in the paint,
My hands do seem to work all on their own.
I dare not even think unless I taint
The aura into which I have been thrown.

At last, a feeling, kin to relief…
The finished work stands, finally completed.
My pride-filled mind is struck with awe and disbelief,
Now my creative stores of energy are depleted.

Respite, but soon my soul is filled with
Urge to savour it’s anticipation of
Delights with which the past has thrilled, so
Once more I burn with zealotic creation.

I spy a picture, framed, upon a wall…
My name, but not my work at all.