Paint my skin in springtime shades,

warm the tones of cold judgement.

Let Light wash over my frozen opinions

and brush aside arrogance and pride,

covering that powerful streak of stubborn selfishness

with magnificent magenta mercy,

graceful gouache glory.

Frame my life’s context

against the wall of Your gallery,

anoint my head with oils and pastels,

running over into lithographed lap.

For I am but a copy

until Your fingers draw out the Original;

I am but a replica

until Your signature calls me Salvaged.

17 comments on “Salvaged

  1. tinamhunt says:

    I had to go to the dictionary on this one, but that’s okay because I love learning new words. The image here really resonates gore me.

    • melodylowes says:

      I have always loved the thought of being a work of art in the making – I have written on this theme before, and likely will again. I enjoy painting myself, so it strikes a real chord with me, as well.

  2. The first line is divine!!!! Lovely poem!

  3. Wow! This is wonderful, Melody!

    Blessings ~ Wendy

  4. Could you ask him to paint me with the same brush and sentiment?

  5. I loved this sequestration !

  6. Caddo Veil says:

    I love magenta mercy and salvaged signature–this is the first time I thought about Heaven including a huge beautiful art gallery–why not?!!

  7. Debbie says:

    Oh My Goodness! This one poured all over me, Melody! Thank you and God bless you!

  8. lvsrao says:

    Beautiful expression.

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