Another Me


I'm mostly not the me you see,
For inside, I'm a different me.
As different just as one can be,
As a butterfly to a white queen bee.

The other me is not real at all,
But made of the substance of thought.
The other me is not bone and blood,
But sounds from a songbird's throat.

I dance on the air, play debonaire,
My spirit laughs out loud.
I speak with God, count peas in a pod
And play with a gnome in a cloud.

The other me can float on a breeze
And talk to the trees or a flower.
The other me is not me at all,
But a spirit that dreams in a bower.
It ebbs and flows, like a petal blows -
(My loved- one's jokes are mean).
So much of me is not what you see,
But ethereal as yesterday's dream...

But a lively pain -
a sharp call of my name,
Can make me feel quite real again!

Mervyn Medicks 40 years
of Painting in Oil.

At the age of 35 (1963) a great desire came upon me to paint. This was no call for a hobby but a power to bring to life the powers – the forces - of nature. The force from that that exerts the twig to bud to those that power the winds, the seas, the sun. With this desire came also the feeling – the knowledge that this was no ordinary power within but something akin to God and holy things. It was then that the words came to me that became my guide to this creative force. These were the Biblical words that were spoken by an Angel to Moses from what appeared to be a burning bush but remained green even in the flames: “Remove your sandals from your feet for the ground you stand upon is holy.” For me - before the easel