Divine Pointillism
Step farther back, I say
Divine Pointillism
Seurat and Signac,
Cross and Pissarro:
not gods,
merely painters
who nestled points
of undiluted color on canvas,
teal next to mulberry,
obsidian next to gold,
tints with nothing in common
but the oil at their base;
who placed each unblended dot
just so, each tiny point
essential to a vision of the world
conceived of only in their hearts;
who relied on a quirk
of human eyesight
to transform the chaos of freedom
up close
into coherent magnificence
from afar.
***
Over and over
I am told to witness
individual acts of inhumanity,
so that I will know whom to hate.
Step back, I say,
expand the frame.
Yes, I am told, connect the dots
to reveal darkness writ large,
patterns of malfeasance
grinning in plain sight.
I do.
They’re there.
Always have been, for anyone
who chooses to behold the ugliness.
Step farther back, I say,
even farther still.
You are yet too close
if patterns are all you see.
Keep backing up
until singular soul-points of raw pigment
blur and a master plan appears,
the divine painting that requires it all:
mulberry, teal,
gold, obsidian,
and the quirk of human eyesight
that makes
everyday earth-sky
gleam like a new heaven,
evergreen pines
blaze tangerine and lemon,
and a woman’s back
curve in luminous beauty
as she lifts one arm
to point to the sky
What a PERFECT metaphor for the ability (and effort required) to see the bigger picture, Mary!
Fabulous reminder that we are standing inside an immense mosaic. Thank you.