Icon workshop

All week I have looked into those eyes
Felt their gaze as I turned for pigment and brush,
Applied gold and the layers that bring shape and the soft
Contours our shrinking humanity needs.
The eyes, once defined, are searching my soul
Under brows that are raised in response to my fear.
The lips are unreadable because I have failed
To capture the smile that I long to see.
The light round his head gleams like fire in the dusk
Where we seal the glance that is all that remains
To show to the world a relationship deep
And flawed, as the icon of Christ that is mine.

CMM August 2018, Cumbrae