Living Tree Poetry

You paint
such colour on my skin,
where I saw white
in my mirrors reflection,

I look again,
and you’ve unearthed them.
The colours of my soul.

I see indigo
and yellow,
but not the sallow
shade of skin,

but bright
like a finches breast
or sunflowers glow.

And there’s blue and rose,
pink across the cheeks.
In such hues that
I can longer see me – for you.

Is that what you were wanting?
Is that what you would seek
to unveil?

Sometimes we
must surrender
strength in mind and body,
and decrease.

While we might appear,
by all intents and purposes to
recede

the colours of our soul
are only reaching

the light of day.

Ana Lisa de Jong
May 2017

Lord, I am not high-minded : I have no proud looks.
I do not exercise myself in great matters : which are too high for me.
But I refrain my soul, and keep it low, like as a child that is weaned from his mother : yea, my soul is even as a weaned child.
Psalm 131

Painting: Odilon Redon