Susan LaffertyIn the realm of heart and soul,
You ask for all.
Hands open,
I give the
fragmented,
flawed,
incomplete all
that I know.
You receive.
Tenderly. Welcoming
broken parts,
scattered pieces
of a repentant,
believing
heart.
You save the sin-sick soul.
“Hmm,” my college art teacher says. Then again, “Hmmmm.”
She’s looking over my shoulder. At the simple drawing. Graphite lines. Bare bones to plan and guide the assigned painting.
“Bigger. Go big!” She says. With increasing volume. Her arms flying out for emphasis. “Stretch it out. Go biiiig.”
The startling command contrasts with my small, neat pencil sketch. So confined and contained.
