I wrote a poem about my “Seeing Eye Leaves” painting, I hope you like it
Branching out with eyes that see
swaying in the wind a tree
Spirit sifting through eyelashes, with dust and debris
Big, little, beady, pink.
Blue eyes, yes eyes
eyes that think.
Brother’s eyes, sister’s eyes, all of them blink.
Soul filled lenses,
flipping, fluttering, float to the ground
With a blank stare they look up
and drowsy, close their lids forever
Whispers through the breeze say to the tree
You will stay, until we grow, and fall again.
I turned this face red to illustrate the idea of being ashamed, or full of shame. The few times in my own life when I have felt shame, in my youth, gladly saying, I could feel my face turn hot and blush. Something I had no control over, because blushing is an automatic reaction. Like crying, while there is an ability to hold back, emotions will prevail and reveal. Revealing the depth of that sensation stemming from the reality of one’s feelings which is something intangible unless one is a pyschopath. I think shame is different than embarrassment although they are both from the same family. There have been some occassions in my life where I have witnessed shaming and find it horrifying and more than that, horrifying that I did nothing. I’m more ashamed of doing nothing or saying nothing than being the recipient of shame, because ultimately, the recipient of shame has less culpability than the person who shamed them, or the person who stood by. There is some degree of acquiesence, for the person who is young and helpless under the control of adults, but as an adult, given a circumstance, I could not stand idly by. There is a rage in me that will exude. Exude for the times I have been shamed and for the times I shouldn’t have been and for the times others have been cruely treated and their voicelessness. In humiliation. Shameful.