A Portrait of a Dead Boy

MissileOfUncertainty

 

I looked at him,
And as I did,
I saw everyone I’d ever loved;
All rapped into one.

As I painted him,
A brushstroke on the page,
I realized I would one day die...
And that so did he.

And I recognized him.
Unlike I’d ever seen anyone before.
Because I realized,
That he had lived,
That he was born.

He was a boy,
With thoughts of his own.
In this world-
I’d never thought of a persons soul.

His eyes touched me-
Like he could reach off of the page.
He wasn’t alive,
But for this break in time-
He was free.

Free from the constraints of death.
Free from the ravishes of life.
Free from being dead,
And free from being alive.

I was the portrait of the dead boy.
And so are you.
I’ve never looked at someone before-
And seen everyone that had ever lived.
This portrait was not dead.

 

  • Author: MissileOfUncertainty (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 5th, 2017 01:19
  • Comment from author about the poem: I was commissioned to do this portrait for a man that lost his son. My brother passed away a few years ago, and as I was painting I just started crying, and I began to think of everyone I’ve ever loved. So here I am, in my bedroom at midnight with paint on my hands and tears on my cheeks as I ponder exsistence. I hope you enjoy.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 31
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Comments2

  • Michael Edwards

    So good to see another artist posting and such a great poem and painting - great work.

    • MissileOfUncertainty

      Thank you so much! I really would love to check out some of your work.

      • Michael Edwards

        Please do take a peek - I work in traditional watercolour plus a lot of abstract work in acrylics and acrylic ink. I'm currently working on a set of charcoal abstracts and experimenting with the use of wallpaper paste.

      • FredPeyer

        The painting is very good, and so is the writing, MoU!
        We tend not to think of death unless or until we are confronted with it. Then it can hit us very hard, as you expressed so well in the poem. And you are right, by painting him and writing about him, that boy is not dead. Nobody is dead as long as we carry them in our heart.
        I especially like these two lines:
        'Free from being dead,
        And free from being alive.'

        • MissileOfUncertainty

          Yes, I thought I was doing this for charity, but I found that I’ve helped myself more than I ever could have thought. Thank you for reading, and thanks for your support.



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