All my colours

Some days I am black.

So dark, so deep that I wonder if the light will ever be able to enter.

It always does ...eventually.

Besides, I have learnt to appreciate this reprieve and can now rest peacefully in the darkness.

Some days I am white.

Pure and unblemished, I approach the world like an open page ready to recieve whatever may be splashed upon my surface.

Some days I am grey.

It’s as if I can’t decide whether I am black or white and so I dwell here: somewhere in the middle, between the light and the darkness.

The uncertainty of this place isn’t always comfortable. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the middle ground.

Some days I am yellow.

I am the yoke, the centre of a daisy.

On these days I am luminous, like a disco ball reflecting the rays of the sun in all directions, bathing the world in golden warmth.

Some days I am pink.

I haven’t always been a fan of this colour. Even as a young girl I was not inclined to automatically adopt a colour that was presumed to be my favourite just because it had for some reason been culturally assigned to my gender.

Now however, I have come to love her. For that is what pink is to me; love. Not the passionate love of a lover. This love is gentler, warm, kind, indiscriminate and unconditional. Like a rose that continues to bloom never running out of petals. Now I openly embrace my pink and it is here that I have found my courage.

Some days I am blue.

Honest and open like an unclouded sky. I won’t lie, the expansiveness can be daunting but bathing in this clarity is most refreshing.

Some days I am magenta.

Magic, magnetic and illusive in my extraspectral magnificence.

Some days I am green.

Fresh and vital, I flourish and unfurl, sprawling outwards and upwards through every crack.

Some days I am brown.

So of the earth that I feel I could dissolve into it.

On these days I ground, send my roots down and take my place amongst it all.

Some days I am red.

Visceral, impactful and bold.

I don’t know how to own this one yet. To me it’s like a vibrant lipstick. I am attracted to it, I curiously pick it up, I fumble with it between my hands, I am tempted to raise it to my lips and paint it on like war paint but I am unsure if I can hold it ...yet.

Some days I am burgundy.

Ripe and rich. Like an old leather arm chair, the creases in my skin map my journey and are testament to wisdom earned along the way.

Some days my colours blend and merge forming an ever evolving pallete of hues to create with.

Some days it rains and my pallette is washed clean.

My colours run free and arch across the sky.

A brilliant spectrum of all of the above.