Prose & Poetry

welcome home, starling

you are safe now

likening myopia to an abstract watercolour

likening myopia to an abstract watercolour

my world is an abstract watercolour

no sharp edges

no fine lines

just colours bleeding into one another

they say that

abstract=subjectivity

but without question, any art critic will derive that

my world=uncertainty

the sense of aimlessness in every brush stroke

evident in the haphazardly done faces

i can’t tell one from the other

but step away and you’ll find that

to see the big picture is breathtaking

when it is dawn 

and the sun’s rays start to creep in

i see streaks of yellow across a pale pink background

and when it is dusk 

just before the sun says good night

i paint watery amber-tinged clouds that smudge into the indigo sky

that blend into the wallpaper in upscale restaurants

as pretty backgrounds for stunning designer-clad couples

but i haven’t painted those 

in months

i haven’t painted anything 

in years

for i had been given spectacles

and for a while

when it was dawn

all i saw was the sun throwing light upon the 

men walking out of hotels, shirts untucked

kicking aside beer bottles and rubbish that lined the street

the whores slinking out soon after

and when it was dusk

between the shadows i saw hooded figures

with malicious intentions

swooping bats

with claws gleaming in the moonlight like knives suspended in mid-air

i could not bring myself to relive these horrors in minute detail

i could not bring myself to document them on canvas

but since you came into my life

you have brought me to recognize

details like

crow’s feet and smile lines

freckles, the way your eyes shine

for tucked in the wrinkles on your face

are where the stories are encased

and i remember

sitting in front of my long-neglected easel

relishing in the sound of brush against canvas

trying to capture that mischievous gleam in your eye

as you wiggle your brows and stick out your tongue from across the room

and now here i stand

in front of me a painted pair of those mischievous gleaming eyes

next to me the same eyes, dancing with pride, holding my hand

around me wrinkles and scars and freckles and smiles

all on canvases that bear my scrawled name on the bottom right side

 

Tia Hanifa is a soon-to-be Communications major who has spent 17 years of her life so far dreaming. Passionate about everything to do with the art of language, her side interests include photography and fashion. You can find her on Instagram (@tia.hanifa for musings and prose, @photiagraphy for photography), or contact her through email at tiahanifa.i@gmail.com
Parachute.

Parachute.

New World Order I

New World Order I