sometimes i lie on my back in my art room and stare up at the attic door in the ceiling and wonder if heaven lies through the latch

then i find it, on my counter, in the brilliant blue of pottery and the red of tomato, and something so small, so insignificant makes my heart hurt for its beauty

i find myself staring at the beauty as i do, aiden, when he sleeps, as if the beauty can save me

and i wonder, isn’t this what we look for? salvation, in the hue of color, in the love of a handshake, in the gift of a pot of soup?

hug me with your colors Lord and i’ll paint your kingdom come, one canvas at a time.