Twelve Gorgeous Sunflowers
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Poem by: Thalia Bronwen
In Van Gogh’s famous Still Life: Vase With Twelve Sunflowers,
Brilliant yellow hues come alive.
Twelve gorgeous sunflowers,
Against a background of pale blue.
The painter’s name scrawled
Across the vase’s side, like an afterthought.
Deep crimson centers pop against gold,
And lively greens lurk in between.
The upper flowers drink,
Shimmering light full of glittering nourishment,
However, upon further inspection, the lower flowers droop gloomily,
Echoing the mental state of their creator.
Poor Vincent suffered,
From shadowy demons of his mind’s creation.
He struggled through the darkness alone,
Like many before and after.
And like hundreds of thousands through history,
Instead of receiving the help they needed,
They were ridiculed and ostracized,
Hidden away in lonely corners.
For centuries any care they were given
Was more akin to torture.
Unethical ‘treatments’, electroshock,
A hundred levels of horror.
Like the sunflowers, eerily blocked from the sun,
Overshadowed by healthier beings,
These suffering people constantly struggle
Against their inner demons,
Called liars -
Because no one else can see it.
Both flowers and people fight for life and recognition,
But are ignored because their illness acts without a trace -
Though the pain is completely real.
In the shadows, sunflowers and people cower,
Cries for help smothered,
By brighter and prettier things.
The pale blue doesn’t calm them;
It’s what fills their insides.
Wilting sunflowers, wilting people,
There isn’t really much of a difference.
© Copyright 2019 Thalia Bronwen. All rights reserved.
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