Getting Your Heart Out

Unfinished painting

There is a Margaret Atwood poem called Heart. The first three lines go like this:

Some people sell their blood. You sell your heart.

It was either that or the soul.

The hard part is getting the damn thing out.

I feel like that so often. An art piece will sit propped against the wall, sometimes for weeks until I figure out why I started it and how it needs to be finished. This one is still sitting there with all its lovely texture.

Here is the link to the full poem.  http://www.theguardian.com/books/2007/aug/18/poetry.margaretatwood