I want to make art


I want to make art.

Feel the sun
Etch crimson blush
Crisp sea air dusting salt in my hair
Flicking, flittering, abandoning all despair

Unattached from fear
Doubt and rage. Years
Painting age on my face from
Love lost and one too many beers
Instead of one less paycheck
Tumbling all dominoes of balance
A delicate Jenga puzzle of bills
Income, and keeping my family safe from harm

I just want to live
Make art every minute, every second
Out of happiness, joy, and bliss
Capture things impossible to miss
Kissing my skin, like free-falling snow
Free and wild as nature intended
Fearing only the unknown
Instead of my own people.

©2016 Satu Runa

photo by RonniDropBread



What was once a burning desire has now diminished into a spontaneously controlled burst of light, and a dim one at that.  I enjoy getting a rise from talking to you because I am foreign.  This only recently dawned on me.  I argue with so many people because they do not see the light, as I was taught.  I am a stranger in a strange land.  When I meet others like me, we cling together, but because I have been here so long…they feel as though I have changed too much to be welcomed back.  Where do I belong?

Not here, not there, not anywhere…but somewhere in between.  The Lotus: floating calmly on still water, with deep roots, and brightly coloured petals reaching out to the cold air in the heavens.  The flower itself is it’s own entity, balancing between two worlds.  I am a child of two worlds in many ways.  I belong to the Earth itself, while gazing longingly at the sky- I hope to ascend to greater things.

Where do I go from here?  Do I search for like-minded people, and hold onto them for dear life?  Do I reject people like you, or try to change you?  By being around me, are you enlightened?  By being around you, am I damaging myself?  Tarnishing a once-pure vision that leant humanity euphoria, a utopic understanding that can only be achieved if raised with such a notion?  Do you see what I see?

What is my happiness?  Is it my return to a land that provided it?   Or do I leave saddened knowing that I could not change this land that has become my own- my adopted home?  The world made me what I am.  I make me what I am.  I choose to make the world better, no matter where I stand.  So many places are so advanced.  It hurts to see my adoptive home so far behind, so delusional in thinking that “We are number 1!”  It is false, and so are you.



You.  Why am I drawn to people who are so torn to pieces by hatred, violence, and fear?  Is everyone like that?  Where are my brethren?  How long until I find my star-twin?  Can I ever fix someone like you, am I like Sisyphus, doomed to roll that rock up the hill only to see the same one falling back again, time and time again?  Are you my rock?  Am I polishing you like a diamond?  Time will tell.  Will I ever make it over that hill…

©2013 Poetry by Satu