by Wendy Jean MacLean
She holds the brush like a hammer
pounding her vision like nails to wood
while colours howl and cry on the canvas.
Purple and orange cannot speak the language of juries
or proconsuls or high priests.
They linger in the praetorium
innocent, like their artist.
They have heard the cock crow
and said nothing but brown, blue, black
we know, we know, we know.
They cannot escape.
Even refusing to enter the fray
is a judgement:
You are not worthy to speak for your colours
if you insist
that they cannot speak for themselves.
They have their own language
of water and blood
on a shroud that bears the image silently
in the colours of rocks and redemption.
Wendy Jean MacLean’s work is shaped by her lifelong engagement with mythology, gospel and spirituality. Her poetry has been commissioned and sung internationally. In May 2023, 2 pieces debuted at the National Unison Choir Festival in Halifax, in commemoration of the LGBTQ purge. On Small Wings, was published in 2022.Wendy is a minister of the United Church of Canada and a Spiritual Director, trained in the "contemplative evocative" approach to listening for the soul and soul-friend accompaniment. She lives in Brockville, Ontario, with her husband and a sheep-doodle named Joy.
Published in Crosswinds, Gathering, Green Spirit, Ancient Paths, Boosey and Hawkes, GIA, Streetlight, Presence, Amethyst Review, Sheila-na-Gig, Collegeville. Awards include: Don Gutteridge Poetry Prize; Big Pond Rumours Chapbook; Open Heart; Poetry Matters; the Drummond, and a Pushcart nomination.
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