see my affliction

In the Book of Job, Job pleaded with God. What he was able to vocalize in his moment of distress, more than opposable thumbs ever could, is what separates man from animal.

“I am full of confusion. See my affliction, for it increases…He destroys the wicked and the perfect. If not, where and who is he?... WHY HAST THOU BROUGHT ME FORTH OUT OF THE WOMB?”

Animals ride inside a single stroke of the painting. Blessed are us though, we can pull back and see the chaos on the canvas.

And there's the rub, for we can’t pull back far enough to see the disposition of the artist in the presence of his work. Is He pleased? A satanic charm in His eye?

Or Blinded? Strewn on the floor, drunk with regret and shame – a coward? Maybe He’s panicked. Oh! Tell me there’s compassion! Does he curse the hand that clasps the brush that created such pain?

Perhaps He's chuckling to himself, amused at our panicked uncertainty, his pleasure only in the wake of a calm that knows a truth worthy of revelling in its beauty.

Maybe he’s no help at all, his tilted head and glazed eyes stare blindly through His work trying to remember what he meant by it once upon a time.

Is He looking at all?!

Breathe. To be a trophy life, kept on display, but always uncertain of our value... our meaning.