Painting the Past

I stand at my easel with brush in hand
facing a blank canvas, ready for the image to emerge.
Today I’ll re-create a scene or castle
or perhaps a medieval doorway I’ve discovered.
Scenes from the past, echoes of another time.

Stories resting quietly just below
the surface, waiting to be told with the brilliant
colors of oil. Or written out,
a painting of written words. Words to accompany
the oils as notes on a page to the musician.

My tale will rest on top of the stories
of men, builders with rock and stone and cast iron.
Monuments left behind to remind us
of triumphs and sorrows of those who loved, lived
and left behind their eternal imprint.

Impressions for me to research, to learn,
to seek, to know their stories are the same as mine.
Heavy, thick, large oaken doors
with black cast iron hardware closing with echoes
bellowing down the stone laden halls.

Announcing that I am here to uncover
the secrets of the past. Though I feel the deep-rooted
emotions vibrating into every room
I stand in ready to absorb. My promise is to enlighten
those that care, but I know…..

the only difference of then and now are the accessories.