I live my life through the words I write
This pink
this lilac
this white
this greenery
are all that remains
from the voluminous bouquet
brought home
over two weeks ago
on a day we laid bare to
trust
possibility
vulnerability
love
hope.
This fractioned bouquet endures
and so will we.
I grew up believing
in the black-and-white of right-and-wrong,
the this-or-that,
the all-or-nothing.
As I chase validation
I see my fear of living outside the box
as deviation.
I see now,
it becomes clear,
the opportunity to see continuums
rather than boxes.
What is right, or what is wrong,
depends on your perspective.
What is black, or what is white,
depends upon the shade of your glasses.
I want to live
in a space so vast I cannot see the walls,
with colors and sounds and open boxes
scattered, their contents spilling,
where everything is right, is accepted,
in any given moment.
Look for me
on the edge of the sun
in the blend of yellow and blue
and white,
on the edge.
I’ll be on the edge
waiting for you.
Fingerprints disturb the dust on the coffee table
interfering with the occluding white film
so one can see the difference between
clean and dirty,
certain and uncertain.
Look through the glass
to see the magazines beyond, on the other side,
otherwise hidden.
Carve through the dust
to create the stark contrast, often needed,
to help them see
what you are looking for, trying to see.
Leave the fingerprints behind, just for a while,
so they can see how easy it is
to look for what they’re looking for, too.
Maybe I don’t need to be here or there,
one place or another,
black or white.
There must be shades of grey in between
across the spectrum,
where we can still be together
but get as close to the black and white
as we can
without losing the grey completely.
Maybe I can have pieces of it all
without inflicting self-destruction,
without being all-or-nothing.
Maybe all I need to do is ask.
Dawning Words 