A SAD ARTIST

A SAD ARTIST.

A sad artist was painting on his canvas. He wouldn’t take his eyes off the canvas. On the canvas was a kid with fair curly hair, two eyes with flowing tears, a handsome nose and a finely curved mouth. The portrait was called The Enduring.

The sun was dazzling red. A blue bird flittered on a worn-out tree. A few brush strokes were needed to complete the portrait. Upon his last touch he stood back. He was taken aback by the portrait. It was marvelous. He placed the portrait on the window to dry. He then fell into a dreamless sleep. When he woke up, he looked at his portrait. The colors were bold expressing every emotion the portrait was painted with.

A feeling of sadness waved upon his heart, A feeling of accomplishment waved upon his heart. A hopeless smile waved upon his lips. Through the eyes of the portrait, he saw an 8-year-old boy sitting on the porch playing with a teddy bear. A pair of dirty sneakers were tied on his feet. There was a blue van in the yard with a roaring engine. The blue van brought his mother from the city.

A look of pity beamed on his mother’s eyes. The meeting of their eyes was like fleeting sparkles of happiness. She came back earlier than her visiting time. She usually visits the family on Christmas holidays.

She wanted to embrace him. He wanted to embrace her. But their hands couldn’t touch. Their lips couldn’t touch. She was far away. He was far away. There was a wall between them. Between their hearts. They could only stare at each other. The sun died in their eyes. The moon came alive in their eyes.

She saw pain, shame and guilt her son lived with. The boy longed for kisses he never had, hugs he never had, and nights he never had. Days died in his eyes. Weeks died in his shadow; months died on his feet still the wall was far from him.

His lungs ran out of air and his heart ran out of hope. Finally, he arrived at the wall. He could see his mother on the other side of the wall. She was smiling. He then tried to break the wall. He gathered a pack of stones. He threw them all but none of them broke the wall. He kicked the wall, but it didn’t break. He threw fists at the wall. The wall didn’t break.

He gathered more stones and threw them furiously but still the wall wouldn’t break. More kicks, more fists but still the wall was intact.

His fists were bleeding. His heart was beating outside his lungs. All the stones he threw on the wall were resting on his feet. He then fell to his knees and let down a flood of tears. His tears flowed to the wall. And for the first time the wall made a sound. The wall melts and forms a lovely cloud in the sky.