Under A Bridge of Self Doubt

There is a bridge
I cross
Where I look down
Then look up
Sometimes look back
Before looking ahead.
So much to entertain outside
That makes me so heavy inside.
So much to celebrate inside
That doubts me even harder than hard.

The bridge is swayed through colours
That I misunderstand as red but actually black,
That I thought black but actually green,
That looks green yet actually beige.
I feel like finding grass
Then a pool of water lilies
Blooming under the bridge.
No, under the blue sky—
And what I thought a bridge is just a rainbow
Where beautiful goddesses slide down to bath
On earth
In this flowing river
Called heart.


note: poem that emerged when i finally thought the painting was 50% done

——

50% maybe…. if i once again not repaint it

this is the painting that has taken the longest time to do even with sketches that i’ve made confidently; i believe that the owner-to-be gives so much mental contribution to the process of making — the owner is one intelligent friend who has quite high self doubt even in her high quality of self/life

she has everything: high IQ and EQ, beautiful physical, warm personality, very successful rich husband, sweet smart children, respecting family and friends — yet with it the biggest question is “what if?”

i seldom feel doubtful about my painting although not many think my work is beautiful because i paint to just express my circulating emotions, not my artistic talent

she might be rejecting this painting as a gift and i am ok, yet the poem above will not be rejected and will give her sweet smiles 💝