To you— who brought color into life



  To you—
           
           who brought color into life freeverse stories
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autumnshowers
autumnshowers'95 / stories through poetry
Autoplay OFF  •  a month ago
You, my dear, helped me find hope. Poem 3 of NaPoWriMo. Thank you for reading!

To you— who brought color into life

When I first met you, I thought how strange that there be a person such as you— so bright, so happy, so kind, when the world around us is anything but.

Then I saw you, and I realized that you were not unaware of such things— of shadows that darken the light in front of our eyes, that make grey and unremarkable the life and reality around us,

Then I saw you, and I realized that you were not unaware of such things— of shadows that darken the light in front of our eyes, that make grey and unremarkable the life and reality around us, that hood our faces from each other and follow us into our homes,

creeping into our bed sheets when the day is done.

No, you are not blind to such things, my dear.

Rather, you rip the static from your eyes and declare,

“I will still see in color!”

and welcome the vivid present into your embrace, with all its shades of garish hue, harsh tones clashing with the softer swatches of a life not yet conquered by solemn truths,

stubborn against the gaunt specter whose presence lingers at the edges of our existence with its tight-lipped whispers

stubborn against the gaunt specter whose presence lingers at the edges of our existence with its tight-lipped whispers of pain, of death— of unknown tragedies.

You stand on two healthy legs, fit and upright in posture, your shoulders straight and unguarded,

You stand on two healthy legs, fit and upright in posture, your shoulders straight and unguarded, with your heart on your face, unperturbed by your vulnerability, determined to seek out the light,

You—

You— a plant not grown in the shade,

who has ventured out into the desert, where there is little joy on which the sun’s rays may shine,

who has captured its radiance in your hands, who has allowed its glow to permeate your being, and who has returned with your form all alight,

so that others may squint through their translucent curtains of speckled black and white, and cast them aside, wondering at what glitters past their veils, and see, in full,

all the colors of beauty once so undermined, and grasp them in their essence and paint with them anew—

all the colors of beauty once so undermined, and grasp them in their essence and paint with them anew— a kaleidoscope of life, with the shadows not forgotten,

but no longer obscuring the fullness of our sight.

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