16. In a spin

Monstrous realisation,
Where to turn?
What to do?
Why me? How can one live
with such stigma?
How can I carry on?
How can I work?
How can I paint?
How can others be told?
What will they think?
They will think me
abominably abject?


The ground, that had erstwhile not been particularly firm, had been swept away. It was the worst possible circumstance: anything but that! There had been TV documentaries, which had held no interest for them at the time. To confess the truth, they had seemed vaguely ridiculous. Karma showed sharp teeth against this former lack of compassion. Where to turn? How could they carry on living in the face of this gruesome realisation? Life seemed to have all its vitality sapped from it, as the shock had stunned colour into servile submission. Monochrome, wretched and weary with grief, they sought help. Good Samaritans were hard to find. Desperate nights phoning for help met with derision and disbelief. They knew they would have to find the answers themselves. It seemed that only paint would help in working it out, through finding a new painterly style and language.