Live Canvas Made from the Earth’s Trash© by Felina Silver copyright 2019, 2023, 2025

I gather what the world forgets—
The bits you leave with no regrets.
A bottle tossed, a wrapper torn,
The quiet grief of things outworn.

These scraps once lived in someone’s hand,
Now buried deep in dust and sand.
A toy, a shoe, a broken plate—
All echoes of a gentler state.

Old pills dissolve in drinking streams,
And bleed into our fevered dreams.
A plastic fork, a wilted rose—
A thousand stories decompose.

Your trash becomes my muted cry,
A canvas where the lost things lie.
No vibrant hues or joyful song—
Just shadows where we’ve gone so wrong.

I smooth the jagged, paint the pain,
And pin each loss like falling rain.
What you discard, I cannot leave—
There’s too much here we should still grieve.

So look, but know you’re looking through
The sorrow stitched in every hue.
This is the art of what won’t last—
A fragile requiem of the past.

This poem was written for Paul Theriault who is the Newsletter Writer/Co-Curator Stairwell Gallery (ptpainter.com). I was visiting my friend Jonathan Sandler of Village Vinyl & Hi-Fi at 307 Harvard Street in Brookline MA, when I saw several pieces of breathtaking art, including but not limited to a piece entitled “Tide” by Paul Theriault which inspired the aforementioned poem.

I am uncertain as to how much if any of Paul’s art is made from recycled product. This poem is based on my version of what I see when I view it.