Sunday
the park is full of people
enjoying the sun
what a gift it is to enjoy
the sun's warmth on sunday.
I stroll along the way
to the lake
thinking
of the painting
"Sunday at the park"
by George Seuret
the dots that make up people
the colors that make up life.
I see the heart specialist
talking on the mobile phone
while his wife helps a child
with a bike, and another
runs around
another child will end up
on his shoulders
as soon as he has finished
telling a patient what to take
for the heart ache
or perhaps he is telling
someone where to meet them
but no,
they are happy on their own
a family life
without too many complications
no need for a transplant
they are complete as they are
undisturbed by the waves of change
they carry on like a heart
ticking constantly .
I know i should not look at other people's
lives
i know i should just appreciate the dots
just look at the light
my children are not with me
on this day
and i would like them to be with me
every day
but i appreciate the operation
we had gone through
it was successful
after all i am alive and well
but sometimes i tend to look
at other people's charts
and envy the way
their healthy hearts tick
and how the dots seem to spell
harmony
while i feel i am a different
work of art
one with wild strokes of violet
black and brown
the earth mixes with flowers
emotions are all over the place
there are no neat dots
but lots of scribbles
that do not follow the lines.
I walk along the lake
and see the sun form small stars
in the water
watch the ducks disappear
beneath the surface
and try to imagine
what they might find
down below.
a sunken ship
a monster
something more like
me.
But today is my day
to be happy go lucky
to be alone with my thoughts
oh, if only i had a pencil
i could draw some trees
and feel myself grow
i could even try the ducks
and make them happy content
not looking constantly at others
but being busy enjoying
their day.
