I could never draw a picture to my satisfaction

The colors, texture, or shading

Never matched the image in my mind’s eye

I could see it as clear as day

A forest with tall trees, the plush moss covered ground

To the left, a beam of light dancing through the branches

Specks floating in illuminated areas

A bright shimmer from a stream

I could never get it right.

 

Or I would try to capture moments on film

I would experiment with angles and lenses

Setting up my posture to get the perfect take

To immortalize the beautiful picture I see

A sunset painting a snowcapped mountain

The purple, orange and pink soft hues mixing together

Against the sharp peaks and angles of the rocks

The shadows cast from branches

With the white snow as its canvas

I could never get it right.

 

After learning dance, I’d dabble with choreography

Borrowing movements from life

Turning my fingers and matching my arms

Connecting the rhythm and story to my chest and hips

Ending up in an awkward stumble of limbs

I could never get it right.

 

However, words seem to come so naturally

Words choreographed the scenarios I envisioned

Words built the film reel of my imagination

Words painted the canvas of my thoughts

And of course, I could never get it right.

 

But in a world of imperfection

And the lack of glove-fitting expressions

Poetry became my road and navigation

Even if, I can’t get it “right”.