My skin was not meant to be ivory,
my hair not meant to be silk.
My eyes are not precious sapphire,
and these hands are no delicate tools of tenderness -
stitching and stroking their path
to a life of feminine pride.
My way is a life of creation:
of sketching and stretching
and prying and painting
with no heed for female convention.
I care not for the paint
that most daily apply –
the farcical face:
deception with a sigh.
My paint is the substance of my soul –
the liquid heart of my dreams,
the pigment of my very breath.
I cannot change to satisfy,
I will not try to be the one
who bears the life, the family care –
a woman’s cautious world of nails and hair –
Don’t Touch!
Donia Lilly
16 january, 2002