By Asma Shatwan
Because I’m an artist I paint on a smile in scarlet and magenta,
And as an actress, I don’t let the curtain of tears fall, not even after the show.
The make-up hides the scars. Red and raw is now beige and pale,
And the gaping hole in my chest, I dress it in layers of silk.
As a playwright, I have a script for every move I make. I only get one shot at this, there are no retakes.
As a photographer, I capture life in silent, frozen frames for when my memory fails me.
As a dancer, I move to the rhythm, ignoring the dull ache in my limbs.
As a musician, my life is presented in notes. High and low, representing my rise and fall.
As a puppeteer, I pull the heart strings of everyone I meet, winding the strings gently around each finger.
As a carpenter, I chip away at my worries. Not a single move I make can be undone.
As a poet, I present life in lines for you to read what’s in between them.
I live this way because art is everlasting.
And so am I.